Dying Lullaby
by imaginationstarie13
Summary: The Justice League always had their secrets. The truth about the deaths of Batman and his family was the most guarded of them all. But when the dead start coming back for revenge, the members of Young Justice must come to terms with their mentors' actions. Even if it means becoming killers themselves. YJ Evil Challenge.
1. Nymph

**Starie here! Time to mess with Young Justice!**

**(For those who read the other things I write yet have to finish, I am actually getting somewhere with them. This one just happened to be first to have some part of it finished. If you read Lying Truths, a chapter will come out by the end of the week.)**

**So, hi YJ fans! This is a response to Illucida's challenge on the fanfiction challenge fourm to make YJ evil. And as I usually do, I've made this kinda long. As in... 15 chapters? Her challenge was to make an evil YJ for whatever reason. My response: because Gotham has issues that corrupt everyone. (Just in more words and not as blunt.)**

**Warnings? I have a few:  
>-Swears, implied sex, other usual M-rated things going to pop up at times.<br>-Expect any possible pairing. I won't reveal them because that'll give away upcoming chapters. Heterosexual and homosexual and pairings that probably don't exist can come up. So expect anything, be open minded, and tread carefully.  
>-Have some Batman knowledge. Specifically, Barbara Gordon, Dick Grayson in later years, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, and maybe some Selina Kyle. They'll be here. A general idea of bad guys in Gotham wouldn't hurt either.<br>-It's AU in the sense that I fudged some details for my own purpose. Like who's in YJ, what happened, Roy being there against his will... Like the pairings, expect anything (except this time, it's limited to some amounts of logic). Also there's some OOCness running about.  
>-There are no OCs. Therefore, I wish you luck in guessing what character has which new alias.<strong>

**They won't let me own Young Justice or Batman for obvious reasons: Cartoons are never meant to be this scary.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p><strong>October 30, 11:16 PM<br>Gotham City**

_There was blood staining the keyboard of her precious computers. It dripped slowly down the keys into the very core of the plastic before pooling at the table beneath. Crimson trickles fell off to the towers hidden from sight, slowly corrupting all of the information-_

(my life)

-_written on the computer. The monitors that surrounded her flickered on, off, then on again, indifferent to the fate of their creator._

_She had been left alone for several minutes. The Riddler had begun to call others to her apartment, ordering left and right. He had made no show of waiting for her to become a corpse. It didn't matter to him as he had underestimated the full effects of his actions. He had not just damaged the Commissioner's daughter. He had taken Oracle out permanently._

_The wheelchair was locked. Barbara Gordon suspected that, even if she had the ability to walk, that she would not be able to move. Not after the cuts that seemed to reach her bone and the bruises that turned flesh into mush. Despite all of the years of physical training, her body simply wasn't able to handle the abuse._

_She knew that it was too late for them all. The distress call had made it clear, being the last thing that she had-_

(it's _would_ because I'm a dead girl)

_-received from Bruce. All of his children were simply gone within a night. Humans were such cruel creatures, after all, and the ones who inhabited Gotham were the worse of them._

_A stray lock of hair, soaked in blood, fell off of its perch on her glasses. Her eyes followed the movement. She wasn't sure of what she was supposed to do with her last moments, trapped within her own body and waiting for death. Something had already told her that there was nothing that could deter any of their fates. It was not up to them that night. Nothing was up to them anymore._

_The world was fading from her. It was simply becoming too much of a burden to stay in Gotham. But how she had wanted to change the city. How she had wanted to prove to the League that they were wrong._

(restless soul

why didn't I see

I am Oracle)

_She knew that it was over for Oracle._

* * *

><p><strong>July 3, 11:12 PM<br>Gotham City**

Selina Kyle perched herself on the corner of the rooftop, ignoring the bitter cold wind that swept through. The concrete had deprived her of any company. What little lighting that was able to escape from the ground below illuminated enough of the world above. From it, she could see the next roof over, where another woman was standing over her prey.

The intruder had a simple black jumpsuit on, not unlike her own. What stuck Catwoman odd was that the flame of hair that flowed with the wind was orange-red. The same exact shade as-

_(she's dead I saw the body)_

It was only a single leap to get onto the same rooftop as the other. There was nothing significantly different about the pavement: both were made of a dark gray concrete and littered upon with metal attachments that kept the building running enough. However, Selina found that the temperature had suddenly dropped even lower the moment she reached the other rooftop. Something crept against her soul and settled down by it.

"Don't you remember, Penguin?" The sweet voice had nothing of the darkness that it had in the past. Instead, it reminded Selina eerily of a child's. The gleam of sharp metal against the shadows of the rooftop should have countered the feeling, but it didn't. It was as if they were two different entities altogether, yet they fitted each other like puzzle pieces. "I really hoped that you did. It would have made it faster."

The man was kneeling, his body visibly shaking. Beads of sweat mixed with tears of fear as they traveled down his face to stain his suit. His trademark clothing had been torn in ways that could only bring the conclusion of fighting. The bloodstains and opened wounds only added to the idea as the cloth continued to soak it all up. Both arms were extended out, his palms facing up towards the sky as if holding out an offering for some higher being. His pupils had dilated.

"No. No." The raspy voice that belonged to the man was quivering as much as him. Penguin started to shake his head furiously, sending his monocle soaring to the side before crashing into the pavement. The glass shattered into shards, but neither paid it any attention. "No. I didn't do anything to you-"

"You've done plenty." The woman-

_(she's dead)_

-lifted the large dagger she was carrying into the air. The moonlight danced off of the intricate design of the handle before giving the simpler blade a steady, monotone light. Blood marred the polished surface. "You've threatened my life over and over." The tip of the blade touched the expose skin of the man's wrist. "Not to mention those of my partners and mentor."

"No, no ma'am! I would never-"

"I was Batgirl."

The glint in Penguin's eyes suddenly darkened. "You little-"

"But you said you didn't do anything to me." The pout could be heard in the words, whispering against the night. The metal pressed into the flesh, eliciting a scream of absolute terror as blood beaded out. There was something unusual about the new wound: it was as if the blood was beginning to bubble once it touched the metal. "That meant that you lied to me."

"No, wait-"

"It wasn't as if I didn't know. I can see all of your little thoughts." She took her free hand and gently tapped her temple with her index finger. "In here."

Something in Selina snapped, allowing her body to move-

_(as if frozen in place the whole time)_

-and propelling her to the two. "Babs-"

"I even knew that she was here!" There was glee coating the voice as Catwoman's body suddenly froze in midair. The only thing that moved was her whip, falling heavily against the rooftop. "And I know when you'll die."

"What? Wait, no-"

Words not formed on the man's tongue were suddenly lost in a swift motion: the blade withdrew from the arm and was sent towards his throat. His eyes bulged, fear making itself the only thing within them. His rigid arms went limp. The whole mass of the villain withdrew to itself as the blood began to trickle down. It was only after the first few seconds that it began to bubble. Penguin opened his mouth one last time to let out a horrifying scream, but it had been lost to the puncture of his throat. Tears cascaded down and mingled with the crimson liquid before disappearing into the black cloth.

"Goodbye. Oh, and the Cobblepots should have been dead decades ago." Barbara Gordon withdrew the knife slowly. There was no doubt that there was a twisted grin on her lips and a gleam in her eyes that reeked of Joker-like insanity. She never once turned around to face the third person upon the rooftop. Her fascination lied with the dying body.

Minutes disappeared into the night. The blood was finally beginning to form a pool against the concrete before the redhead turned her attention away from the corpse. The bright eyes-

_(so insane)_

-fell upon Selina.

"Oh, Selina. I've missed you so much." The voice suddenly changed tone, taking on one of faux innocence and happiness. The woman finally turned her face to the elder of the two, eyes dancing madly behind cracked glasses. "So, what's happened since the last time I saw you?"

_(acting so casual)_

Selina could not move at all. Even her gaze was focused directly on the redhead, watching as the blood splattered upon her black jumpsuit run down like rain.

"Oh, don't tell me! I want to see!" The dagger found its way to her exposed neck, lightly teasing it with the sharp edge. She could feel Penguin's blood slipping off of the metal to mix with the new blood from a new cut. "Let's see… Selina, how could you! Joining the Justice League!"

Her eyes were unable to widen from the sheer shock of the statement. No one had known about it outside of the few members-

_(Bruce should have been one of them)_

-that went directly to her on the rare occasions that they needed her expertise. Officially, under digital encoding of all of the files, she was listed as a reserve member for the times of extreme need. It was really the only thing she felt that she could do to honor the memory of Batman.

"You've been such an antihero, haven't you?" Barbara's free hand tapped against her chin, her eyes pondering her own question. "I mean, look at what you've done. No wonder Gotham's gone to hell!"

The blade pressed deeper.

"But you've done good too." The redhead shifted her weight to her left foot-

_(she's standing)_

-in a fluid motion. "Damn it, Selina. I don't want to send you with the Penguin. And Gotham-"

The name of the city hung in the air.

"Well, damn, she likes you too. Not like she loves us, but she loves you. Damn, why you have to choose to show up tonight? Now I have to decide!"

Around them, Catwoman was vaguely aware that the night within Gotham was continuing on as it usually did. It paid no mind to the fact that she was going to die by the hands of a dead woman. After all, how many others had fallen down the same path within the city's shadows? How many times had any single person trapped within the dark architecture told themselves to move on because staying in one place was too painful?

"Actually… I think I do have a use for you. Nothing you don't know how to do, so don't worry. Then you can go on your merry way. I'll even make sure that you can't be blamed for Penguin's death!" The glee suddenly enriched Barbara's voice. The blade pulled back before she tossed it into the air nonchalantly. Moonlight spun with the metal before the blade landed within the black gloved hand. The hilt-

_(shaped like a bat)_

-glared with the lights from the city that had escaped into the night. The end of the handle came up and simply tapped Selina on the head, leaving the impression of ice cold metal upon her skin. "There, all done."

And suddenly she was free. Her posture faltered as she suddenly regained control. Her hand reached for the whip-

"It won't help." Their eyes met. For a split second, the blue eyes seemed to glow under their own light.

"You're dead!"

"A setback," said Barbara, as if it was the easiest explanation in the world.

Selina had a different view of the matter. She did not find it-

_(possible right true_

_impossible)_

-right that the world had raised the woman back from the dead only to be a killer. The rest of the family had not been as unlucky as the other. Yet…

Would they have suffered the same fate? Would Bruce, of all people, allow something as twisted as fate to impose on his sense of justice?

_(would he join her?)_

The question finally found its way to Catwoman's mouth. "Setback for what?"

"Revenge, of course." A smirk began to replace the smile. It was twisted like many of the insane members of Arkham Asylum, but different. There was an element that reeked of what the Justice League stood for in the madness of it all. It was unsettling. "After all, Oracle died. Nymph wants retribution."

"From who?" Selina was scared to know the answer. The woman had enough experience to know how to hide any of her fears, but she couldn't for that one moment. The answer she was anticipating could have made all of the difference.

But it would never be the one that she had longed to hear.

The smirk set in, blending the Joker and Superman into twisted red lips. A lone drop of blood, fighting to fall off the edge of the blade, won the battle and hit the ground. As her eyes followed, the older of the two could feel her body seizing up. A dread filled her as her control was gone within a single second.

"The Justice League, of course."

* * *

><p><strong>July 4, 5:54 PM<br>Washington DC**

It had happened so fast, even for Wally.

The League had brought Young Justice into their fake base on Earth for the Fourth of July. It was supposed to be a bonding experience between the members of the younger group as things had hit a rough spot-

_(as always)_

-between the members. The speedster could feel the impatience that the adults were practically breathing out as they tried to train the kids.

Young Justice started once the New Year had hit and Cadmus was attempting to contain Superboy. The clone claimed that someone was calling out to him from outside of the lab.

_(no not outside of lab just telling him to leave word makes all the difference)_

The clone's temperament did the rest. He had escaped, found his way to the League, and demanded help. It wasn't a graceful asking, but nothing else should have been expected from-

_(a child)_

-a genetic experiment only created sixteen weeks prior and taught by preprogrammed computers.

The memory of the mere look that Superman gave his clone was burned into the teenager's mind. It wasn't the hatred that villains had given them all at one point of their careers or another. At the same time, it was not one that said anything of acceptance, whether in the present or the future of the subject.

The rest of the Justice League took in the clone as soon as Martian Manhunter claimed that the teenager's mind was free of anything to condemn him. As the details of the creation of Young Justice began to settle, Superboy was training with a variety of the League's finest members.

_(never Superman)_

When the team fell together, it was catastrophic to both mentors and students. Kaldur had easily gotten homesick and heartbroken as his time on the surface increased. M'gann had received the less welcoming side of everyone from her constant cheery attitude. Superboy had suffered from accelerated growth with very little human interaction. Roy-

_(don't understand)_

-had taken an on-off stance with his relationship with Green Arrow, making his temper tantrum run longer than expected. And that just left him trying to hold it all together.

The Fourth of July gathering felt like a last attempt to keep the group at all. Between everything else that had happened between the teenagers, it was understandable.

_(unfair)_

But something had happened. The teenagers had been placed away in one of the many rooms that littered the faux headquarters. What was not expected was for a woman with orange hair waiting in the shadows-

_(like Batman would have)_

-for them all. It took only a glance into her eyes before something… happened.

_(sit like good children it'll be better like this it'll be nice)_

The kind voice whispered into Wally's mind, beckoning him to the plush chairs that surrounded the lone table. It was not a barked out command, which in itself was appealing to the speeding teenager. There was something else within the voice that begged to be listened to. It was sweet and caring and-

_(actually loves me not broken promises)_

-there was even possible love in the words. There were promises of what he had dreamed for with just one-

_(be a good)_

-little-

_(little)_

-action.

_(child)_

Her fingers were dancing upon the keys that sat in front of the large monitor of the room. There was never a pause in the typing, as if what appeared on the screen had no meaning to her. It was like she was completely focused upon something else entirely. Yet there were no errors to the typed commands. The computer had no reason to call her an enemy, allowing her access to more and more data as she typed away. To see that the security meant nothing but a mere hindrance to her was unsettling. It was unlikely that any member of the League could pull such a feat off in one sitting, let alone in such a short period of time with no flaws.

It was a full five minutes before the woman brought up a picture onto the large monitor. It only stayed there for a second before it disappeared into the sea of data that came and went by her will. However, it was long enough for Wally to catch a glance of the image. His memory came up with his own list of features of the woman at the metal hardware, suddenly wanting to do something that did not involve listening to the voice.

_(redhead glasses face_

_the same)_

The picture that had flashed on the screen was definitely her: the facial features were an exact match and the hair was the same shade of the autumn orange color. However, it was as if they were two separate entities entirely. The woman from the picture was serious and businesslike. The woman in front of them was insane, scars riddling her body.

She idly tapped the microphone at the far end of the keyboard. An echo of the low thud filled the base, followed by a small squeal of happiness and a smile that shone in the reflection of the monitor. The blue eyes in the dim reflection danced with the movement of the keys. After a few more minutes had passed, her attention fell onto the microphone again. The plush chair made no noise as she leaned forward to lessen the distance between metal and flesh.

It was then that cold fear began to seep into Wally. The voice was still whispering within him, soothing what should have been a sudden adrenaline rush that would spike his blood. It was only tainting what should have been his own reaction. Despite the overtone of the voice, there was something within him that whispered against it. It was two minds-

_(it'll be better)_

_(lying using us controlling us)_

-within the space of his conscience. The thoughts came slowly, but picked up pace the more he realized he lacked any sort of control of his physical presence. The panic was trapped with the fear: powerless compared to her. He was unable to look at his teammates, but the fear had answered the unasked question. They could not have been in league with her.

_(right?)_

"Anyone here?" She paused, waiting to see if a response would suddenly materialize. "Hello? Conference room B, a woman waiting with all of your children." The woman was childish in her speech, setting Wally off even more. It was not her actual words, but the creeping insanity that was present in them. The League had always spared them the task of fighting against those that were on level with the Joker, leaving them now to a woman who could easily kill them. The insanity-

_(like the Joker)_

-in the pure yet tinted eyes grew with each second that slipped by. A countdown was beginning.

"Come out, come out." Her voice whispered eerily on the speakers. Some of the echoes rebounded within the room, making the power behind the words grow. A drop of temperature accompanied the sound, but whether it was from the fear or actual powers Wally could not tell. Instead, he began to wonder if there was any way to beat the woman. Before any consensus could be reached mentally, the panic had told it was too late.

"Oh, I know!"

She snapped her fingers before bringing her lips towards the microphone again. "You are getting sleepy from listening to my voice. You know that my sweet voice is seeping into your mind. All it's telling you to do is come over here. Be peaceful. Your children want to see you. Your guest wants to see you."

It was a mere minute before she got the desired response. The woman smirked as she watched each member of the League walked into the room like zombies. There was something in her eyes that sparked at the sight of the heroes parading in under her control. The heroes themselves had faces blank of any true emotion, making the most notable feature the twisted grin on their lips. Their posture was set to be straight, almost mechanical. She spared each of the adults a glance before turning to the teenagers. The fear in Wally's veins began to course harder.

_(it'll get better)_

_(from what)_

_(you'll see)_

"Now that everyone's here, it's time for the obligatory explanation that all villains seem to have. In essence… It's a game, really." she said, the smile never leaving her face. Her left hand found its way to the keyboard, drumming lightly on the metallic finish. The beat was a slow repetition of fast taps. "We'll come, one by one, and take what we deem to be the most important thing! It's only fair."

She paused, bringing the fingers of her free hand up to drum against her bottom lip. "Well, it's not fair to the children, is it? I mean, they don't even know who I am! Hm..." Her face hazed over with thought. "How about I tell all of you my story! And I'll even let you keep everyone! You'll just have to be super prepared for the next time, okay?"

A uniform nod answered back, lacking any of the true emotions that plagued the heroes. Wally couldn't help but wonder if the woman had any sort of friends who would answer her questions honestly. It wouldn't have been surprising if she had a massive array of victims like himself, obeying anything that the sweet voice whispered in their heads. Yet the thought of being completely devoid of another who could understand was worse. Was there not one person who kept her company?

"Once upon a time," she began softly, pausing as she collected her thoughts. The tone of the words held the innocence of childhood within them. "Well, there was a city called Gotham. Gotham was dark and full of bad men. But she had a knight who wore shadows and fought unlike anyone in the world could. He called himself Batman. Gotham's knight was alone for a while, but then others joined him. Gotham was happy that her knight had a family who helped protect her. It made Batman happy too."

_(bad guys)_

"But one night an evil curse took hold and killed each one of Gotham's knights. Even the fearless Dark Knight fell because no one would listen. Gotham was furious that it happened and swore to bring back her children for revenge. But they were captured, one by one, by the famous Justice League. Then there were only three of Gotham's children left to wait. There was Dryad, Muse, and then me. Nymph." Her attention turned back towards the screen of the computer, her face appearing hunched over to hide the reflection. "I was the first one to come to Batman's aid. He was the other father of my life."

The tears were heard within the statement quite clearly. Something within the soul begged for sympathy, despite the obvious sins that marred her. Her fingers ghosted over the keys lovingly, hovering slightly above a single key.

_(a guillotine)_

"And you took him after you took us."

The innocence dropped from her voice and was replaced with a colder tone. "The one man who had made a difference to the world, and you took him. All he wanted was to keep his family together. But no, it didn't fit your little ideals so you let them take us. That's basically killing us yourselves."

_(world's unfair we'll change that)_

"And look at everything now. You have your own little families. In fact, you had them longer than the criticism existed! So, doesn't it make it fair that we take them from you?"

Wally's face was contorted into an easy smile, hiding all of the emotions that he was feeling. The words made no sense, yet the meaning behind them was not at all lost. The woman was insane. She wanted to take each and every one of the teenagers and kill them just because of what happened to the family. But despite the overtone, there was something else to the whole matter that bothered the teenager: What was the thing that had turned the woman into this?

A purr rippled through the air softly. It was followed by the light sound of boots on the carpeted floor. A figure clad in a black jumpsuit and a cowl with ears sticking out picked herself up from her landing. Her face was blank of any true emotion, just like the rest of the room sans a single female.

"Ah, Catwoman! I knew you wouldn't let me down once I convinced you!" The childlike smile had returned to the woman's face. Any tears that were there were gone with the pure rage that had spoken before. "And imagine that! How much information you got with just your login! So dumb, the Justice League is." She held out her hand and received four discs from the other. Catwoman's movements were jerky and unnaturally rigid. The rings under her eyes seemed to have darkened with the single action.

The metallic coating on the discs shone in the brief amount of light they received before being hastily placed within a back pocket. "And now you're free. Was that too hard?"

Catwoman nodded in the same manner that the heroes had under the redhead's control. The moment her head was stationary, she collapsed to the ground. A groan accompanied her fall. It was sickening to hear.

"Oh, don't worry. Maybe you'll be able to roam the rooftops of Gotham in a year or so. But with the amount of chemicals I made you ingest in order just to listen to me… well, let's just say anything within the rest of this year is definitely a wish."

"Now, because I care, I'll leave you one last bit of information that could save your sorry asses. Chances are none to none, but you never know. After all, aren't I supposed to be dead?" She pulled out something that fitted her hand like a glove, a large metal plate shaped like a bat adorning the top. Her hand barely raised itself before it went off. The cord that followed the metal plate was thin, but there was no room to doubt its strength. "One of you is one of us."

And with that, she disappeared. It was as if the legend of Batman and his family came alive.

The words remained after she was long gone. Wally could feel them sit with the heroes as they tried to gather their wits. His uncle was helping Catwoman up. The woman seemed to be beyond what daze would fall upon a scale of confusion. Her balance was completely off, sending her down to the floor as she tried to stand. Even the collapse fell upon itself. The other members of the League were looking over their charges, the exception being Superman. Unconsciously, he noted that Roy was batting away-

_(like him to me)_

-the Green Arrow's attempts to check up on him. The teenagers themselves were in varying degrees of shock. The questions around what had happened made an aura of curiosity and distrust.

He took it upon himself to ask the first question. "Who is she?"

There was a glance passed around all of the adults, daring another to speak. But they were as shaken as their protégés. Any answers would have been lost to either their nerves or secrecy, which only increased the redhead's irritation for them. How could it be that, in one of the few times where the teenagers agreed upon one thing, that their mentors lacked anything to help?

When the silence persisted, it was Roy who answered. "She's Barbara Gordon. She was the first Batgirl, but was paralyzed by the Joker. She became Oracle afterwards."

The names came with vague images of who the archer was talking about. They had all been mentioned before in the hero community, so none were coming up as questions. But there was something else...

"She was walking," he pointed out.

A cough erupted from Catwoman, who was attempting to sit up. The hand supporting her bent, which in turn sent her down to the tiled floor. The words came out anyways, struggling for air. "She's... dead."

"Did she just-"

"Oracle's been dead since October," Superman said slowly. He kept his sight concentrated-

_(not on Superboy)_

-on the computer monitor, as if he was expecting a clue. "In fact, every member of Batman's family died that night except for the butler."

There should have been an atmosphere to say some sort of joke that would fix some of the mood. Wally's mind was racing to find one in the darkness, but was coming up empty handed. Even joking that the butler had to have done it was overshadowed greatly by the fact that the heroes of Gotham, Batman and all, had all died within a night. It was as if fate had erased them from the world with a raise of her hand.

"What happened?" M'gann asked, her voice barely even reaching a whisper.

"Different things," Flash muttered. "Oracle was killed by the Riddler."

"Different?" Kaldur repeated. Any emotions over the murder of another were hidden from his face. Instead, it was set as a stoic mask. "Are you saying that they died of different causes in one night?"

Flash nodded. His own mask to the world did nothing to cover the sadness in his eyes. "It shouldn't have happened like that, but it did."

"But she's here. Doesn't that mean that the others-"

"No." Superman's voice was definite in the confusion. "She is the only-"

"Bullshit! She said that others escaped! Don't lie about what we heard," Roy hissed. The words stung more than any of his previous proclamations. "So stop fucking-"

"What about what she said?" Superboy asked. "That there was 'one of them' in us?"

M'gann opened her mouth to speak, only to be cut off by Roy's anger. "Obviously, there's a traitor among us!"

"But who?"

Kaldur's words echoed in the silence that followed.

* * *

><p><strong>July 4, 11:36<br>Gotham City**

"Those. STUPID. SONS OF _BITCHES_." The sounds that filled the cavern echoed as Nymph slammed her fist against the stone. The long caverns whispered her frustration, disappointment, and pure anger within the pockets of air. There was never an answer among them, however. They were of no help but to remind her of her failure. "I-"

"Nymph, please stop. You're upsetting Mother." A mop of black hair accompanied with blue eyes sauntered into the small niche within the tunnels. The jumpsuit that his body was placed in was not unlike hers, save for the peaks of green and red amongst the black. His muscles created outlines in the material, allowing the eye to follow the years of training and fights. "Things could-"

"Even they do not know, Dryad. Do you know how much space that opens up for search? How much time-"

"You act as if I know nothing about the location of our siblings." The boy's-

_(can't be a boy death makes us equal)_

-calm tone washed over her softly. The echoes that it produced trapped her in the velvet sea, stealing away some of her anger. "I have been doing my own research. STAR Labs is quite interesting in that regard."

She could not hide the venom from her words. "But what does that tell us?"

"Everything." He walked over to a computer that had managed to survive her fists, allowing his hand to ghost over the keys before carefully selecting which to press. Once the process started, it was impossible to tell the exact order he pressed them. "They protected their minds from the world by leaving it to chance. But they could have never cast the others away to anywhere but Earth. They kept the others here in hopes of a cure. Of course…" A map flashed on the cracked screen, highlighting several areas with stars. "Nothing cures death. Not even our lust for revenge."

"Right." She straightened herself into a standing position as the dust settled away from her. The woman took in a deep breath before turning to face the other for the first time that night. The teenager had lost any of the self-doubt that had once carried itself with him as he flew through the night. It had been replaced with anger coated with innocence and the ability to bring his imagination to life. It was a terrifying combination to find within someone as bright as him. "What about-"

"The League will find out soon because of you." His words were light, despite the anger that was present in them. "I worked so hard to protect the fact, and you practically gave it away!"

"But can you imagine the chaos-"

"Chaos like that can only last for so long! They will discover the truth before we can find the others. The information we could have gotten if you had only stopped and thought for one. Little. Second." With each word, the amount of anger that could be heard increased without any filtering of the truth needed. "You could possibly endanger him if those Martians search his mind. Do you know how much _effort_ I had put into training-"

"He can protect-"

"That was what we thought. Remember?" The words stung the air as they sat there, their echoes dimming slowly. "And looked what happened to us. We're dead, if you haven't noticed."

He spoke with emotions. But there was too much logic in the plan that had to count for something. "But he's dead as well."

The silence it brought on was pressing. She could feel the anger radiating off of the other as the ground beneath her began to emit life. It was not as bad as Pyroead, but the sheer amount of knowledge that the boy had was more than enough to erase her existence. "Excuse me?"

"Dryad-"

"Damn it, Nymph. You did not need to remind me-"

"But he chose-"

"He shouldn't have-"

"What other choice-"

"If that stupid-"

"Enough!" The rest of the argument gave way to the single word. A woman, much older that Nymph, slowly made her way to the two. Her presence was different that theirs. Even if she had been tainted in blood while the others were clean, she still would have been different. Her hair fell to her back, slowly trailing behind her as she walked the rocky floors. The dark brown eyes were scarred with more experience than they could have known in their short lives. At worst, she could have killed them several times over.

"Mother." Dryad's eyes widened with shock. "I-"

"Save it, Dryad. There are more pressing matters." She looked at the shattered remains of the computer towers. "We will need another if we are to find everyone."

"This was junk. I left the good ones over there." Nymph lazily gestured towards the numerous shadows of the cave, her mind obviously finding the piece of information boring. "What should I do?"

"We must get to the base at Happy Harbor. Bru-" The rest of the name was lost.

_(like the past)_

"Lampads might have left something there." It was as if the beginning of the name was never spoken at all. Yet, as the woman suddenly made her turn to leave, Nymph could feel the weight of the past sneaking up on her. It was unfair for the peace of death to be stolen from them all, but forced to their graves unrested was not much of a better option.

The next moment sent her into sheer pain. A large vine spiked with thorns glared at her as she toppled down to the ground, clutching her stomach. Black blood seeped out of the wound, tainting the shadows with only the wetness.

"That was for revealing the truth." Dryad turned away, making no motion to send the vine away. The sound of it returning to the earth was enough indication that he was done extracting his own justice. "Try not to do that again."

_(demons we are)_

His footsteps followed after his mother's, the empty echo healing the wound of an idiotic decision. Before he dropped to another level of the rocky structure, he spared her one last glance. The pale blue eyes sparkled in the darkness of their own thoughts. "I'm sorry, for what it's worth."

"I apologize as well." Her hand moved against the cold, uncaring ground. She stabilized it for support, managing to keep it steady as she brought up her body. Her other hand found itself at the smaller end of the wound that punctured her stomach. The black blood seeped through her fingers, coating them in the warm darkness. "If only Romeo received the message."

"If only."

Dryad stepped off the cliff of the caverns, allowing his weight to pull him out of her line of sight. The cave echoed his landing, allowing them to keep their thoughts of revenge to themselves.

* * *

><p><strong>And it's only the beginning...<strong>


	2. Dryad

**Hi everyone!**

**Just want to thank everyone who read and reviewed the first chapter! And for those of you who think that it was confusing... well, it gets worse. Poor Young Justice still has no idea what's going on, and the author likes keeping her secrets. *shrugs***

**On that note, be warned of the (ab)use of flashbacks. It's where a lot of the motives are hiding.**

**And on another note, I'm not exactly sure of what to say about DC's upcoming plan of rebooting everything. I'm not going to complain about it until I see what they do, but this leaves room for a lot of messes that I might dislike. Please don't screw it up, DC.**

**I still don't own Young Justice. It's not really much of a surprise, considering what I think up of.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p><strong>July 5, 8:20 AM<br>Happy Harbor**

M'gann sat on the very edge of the couch, not sure where to set her eyes upon. The living space carved out of what was available of the cave was familiar, yet menacing. It was as if the shadows within had suddenly grown darker with the events that had played out the night before. She reasoned that it was not the actual room itself, but the people filling it. She didn't want to read their feelings or thoughts-

_(dislike me more)_

-but she could feel the emotions radiate off of the others. The emotions radiating off of her teammates were simply too strong for her to ignore. Even Kaldur, who was usually the calmest of her teammates, had emotions spilling from his mind that were invading hers. She wished that she could simply stop her powers. It was not the first time she had longed for the ability to turn her mind reading ability off like a light.

Wally had taken to pacing the narrow space between the television and the rest of the furniture that faced it. His steps made quick work of the carpet, barely touching it before his other foot made the next step. Part of the deep crimson dye was beginning to fade. "It makes no sense!"

"Are you kidding? Of course it doesn't make sense!" Roy's voice was biting with anger that was usually reserved for his former mentor. There was no remorse in his green eyes for using that tone, even after Wally's face clearly showed some pain. "The League tells us nothing that's going on! They never told you about the Watchtower, and now they're obviously trying to keep this under wraps!"

Kaldur gave the archer a look of disapproval. "They have their reasons."

"Well, if our lives are in danger, that should be plenty of reason." He stood up, his bow giving him a wide berth. His eyes settled into a seething anger that M'gann was sure she had never seen before. Her uncle-

_(no lies hatred)_

-had mentioned that he had seen the purest of anger from a variety of villains, but never a hero. It was unsettling.

"Roy," she said, her voice soft from vague of hopes that he would not yell at her. "What happened to them? The… the rest of Batman's family?"

He cast her a glance. There was something in the green irises-

_(can't be white must be green)_

-that held on to the anger that he had towards what he thought of as sheer idiocy. Yet somehow, her words brought out sadness. Something swirled beneath his thoughts. She could feel his aura calm slightly, washed over by sadness. His bow fell to his lap as he collapsed onto the couch.

"There were three Robins and two Batgirls." The tone was somber, weighed by the stories behind the simple words. The statement sat in the stone room, taking away any confusion that had sat beside them and replaced it with curiosity. "The names get passed down a lot. It was a thing with them, I guess. Every time one of them grew up or whatever, there was another one already trained and ready to go."

"That makes it sound… mechanical," Kaldur said. When silence began to settle, he continued. "Did Batman not love them individually?"

"He did." There was now a bitter edge to Roy's voice. "But they grew up from being sidekicks. At least…" He cocked his head so that he was facing the ceiling of the lair. "Barbara wasn't really planning on-"

_(sadness)_

"-becoming Oracle. It's just that… Joker shot her in the spine. It paralyzed her, but she never did stop fighting crime. She worked with her computers to get information out for the rest of the League. Mostly for Batman, though."

_(bitter)_

"How about the others?" M'gann asked.

"Nightwing was the first Robin. He was strangled by the guy who killed his parents. The second Robin went by the name of Red Hood. Joker got to him." The facts came out emotionless. Roy's aura dropped considerably. "No one knows about the others. None of the bodies were ever found. We only know about the three because the stupid bastards reported it themselves. Damn fucking proud of what they did, too."

The words sat in the cave. A sense of dread came off of the others as they thought about it. M'gann felt as if she should say something, but words had already failed to help her. It was too much. The shadows that covered the cave seemed to grow darker, whether by imagined blood or sinister intentions, she couldn't say. It was surreal that all of the-

_(children)_

-family had lost their lives at once. There had always been stories on how the human amongst the metahumans had accomplished feats that seemed impossible in any way one saw them. It was beyond the level that Green Arrow and Roy had accomplished. Batman and Batgirl and Robin and all of the others were legends. Dead legends.

_(white painted green shouldn't matter)_

_(does)_

_(those who forget the heart)_

She never said anything about the-

_(evil)_

_(new justice)_

-voice. It had yet to leave her, even after her uncle-

_(unconditional love if it were true)_

-checked to see if there was anything left in her mind. He said it was clear. She knew better than to say otherwise.

* * *

><p><strong>July 7, 10:56 PM<br>Metropolis City**

Lois Lane was a woman whom many feared. She did not possess the metahuman powers of those who continuously set themselves to destroy or save the world, nor the gadgets and features that made other humans rise to their levels. It was sheer determination and rumored anger that set her apart from the others. She prided herself in the fact that even Lex Luthor, who continuously attempted to kidnap her, was wary of her presence. It made her feel empowered within a world where superheroes and villains took the front page more often than not. It was not that she was jealous or angry at them-

_(it would be easier without them)_

-but rather annoyed to have to fight more for any sort of title.

So, to say that the lack of fear within the pale blue eyes that judged from above her had startled her was an understatement.

The teenage boy-

_(can't be much older than fifteen maybe fourteen)_

-had midnight black hair, almost blending in to the night sky that surveyed the land. The only way she could tell where his outline met the sky was the hints of clouds that had steadily increased since her arrival. His eyes, cast downwards to look at her trapped in the large hole, were pale blue. In fact, the hue was not natural as far as she knew. The glow that seemed to radiate off of them added to the mystery, casting a pale green light that illuminated the rest of his face. His muscles were compacted in a black jumpsuit that allowed only hints of the chest to be seen. It was the grin-

_(no)_

-that reminded her of the dark villain in Gotham that had once attempted to take her life. In Gotham, she had been saved by the Dark Knight. He had swooped down into the shadows, taken the crazed man out, and left her to the police and her keyboard. The story that she produced had made head pages of the Daily Planet, but received the darker side of comments. After all, who in the shining beckon of Metropolis wanted to hear of the dark character that made the shadows all the more intimidating?

_(who will save me)_

The cloth that served as her gag had loosened its hold over her ability to speak. Her back, pressed against the wall of dirt-

_(like a burial for a coffin)_

-and soaked with the waters of the underground, felt damp. The back of her head was rubbing furiously against whatever could make friction. If only she could speak... then she would be free of the mad teenager. She would find herself at home within an hour, maybe two, showered and warm and at her keyboard with another story of Superman. It would be like another day for her, the only difference being that she would remember this one for the haunting look of the teenager. Nothing more, nothing less.

"You know, Miss, if you wanted to talk, all you had to do was signal." He raised a hand lazily, casting a shadow into the pit with the movement. Besides her, dirt fell from the wall to make way for a lone vine. It drilled its way out of the earth before turning its attention to her. It reached out, and Lois could feel an icy cold surface touch her cheek. It reached into the space between the cloth and her flesh before violently pulling the gag. As the knot had yet to be fully undone, it took a few tries before the once pure white cloth fell away from her mouth.

"Feel free to scream. I really don't care either way." The vine disappeared as he spoke. The only sign of its existence for the brief moment of time was the hole it had left besides her head. "What's the point of worrying over your big, bad boyfriend anyways?"

Rage began to filter in. Despite his age, the boy was obviously intent on killing her and bringing on the wrath of the Man of Steel. She knew that it would be no contest between the two physically-

_(but he just controlled the vine)_

-and that she would be home within the hour to wash away the grime. It was nothing unusual about it at all.

Yet there was something off. The difference was screaming in her ear, incomprehensible in everything but the beginning of panic that was seeping into her.

"Come on. Call for him." The voice taunted her. It was that slight push that sent her tumbling off the edge.

"Superman!" Her voice was hoarse from disuse, but the name came out as clearly as anything else. "Superman! Help!" Lois's screams continued like a chant. It would only be a matter of time before the man swooped in and save her. It was the way things always went.

Lois waited for a moment. Her voice had faltered some time during her scream, but had gone unnoticed by her frantic brain until she stopped. Her throat tingled with a foreign pain. As she began to ignore the pain in favor of looking at the night sky, another fear crept its way into her. If only there was a man in the sky to chase away her fears.

_(but where?)_

"I probably should have warned you, Miss. He's not coming." The glee increased with every word. "If he could only care…"

"He's-"

"A killer."

_(impossible)_

The two worded statement froze the air. Her lungs were suddenly drained of oxygen, yet her throat would not allow her to take in a breath. The blood in her veins seized her fear and ran it through her body. Ideas began to fill her mind, drowning her in the endless possibilities behind the single word. The only thing that would make all the difference was Superman's will of taking another's life. Everything else meant nothing in terms of physical restraint. Even Kryptonite could do little if the man was determined to achieve his goal. In reality, all that was stopping the man was his own will. It was a chilling thought.

"Directly or indirectly, the man you think you see is a monster." The voice of the teenager's was soft. But there was something about the new tone that he took on that made it sound as if he were right next to her, the back of his cold hand moving down her bare shoulder. "Infected, if you want a word to ease your conscience. But saving him? Impossible. The blood is already on his hands."

"Ho-" What little remained of her voice was barely able to take the words she desperately wanted to ask. The fear had been replaced with a sense of deep horror from the realization-

_(not coming)_

-that was settling within her. "How… do you know?"

"You're going to die, aren't you?"

The sounds of a shovel cut into the air. Dirt peaked over the edge of the hole, tipping in and beginning the long process of filling it up. A smudge appeared on Lois's cheek, washed out by the tears that had started to stream down her face without her awareness. The shirt she donned had the beginnings of two areas darkened by the salty water. It was a gentle reminder to her that she had, on some level, known that it was the end.

"You never agreed with the city's decision to have a botanical garden here as an exhibit, did you?" The mocking in the voice had returned. It was gentle, but nevertheless a knife to her bloodless impending death. "Shame you didn't see the beauty. If it weren't for this place, I would have buried you in somewhere… less pleasant. But now you'll be buried with the roses."

A shower of blood red rose petals came down softly before the next shovelful of dirt hit her.

* * *

><p><strong>July 11, 4:26 AM<br>Metropolis City**

Clark Kent's grip on the Styrofoam cup tightened when he realized he was trying to listen for a particular woman again. Lois Lane had been missing for six days. There was nothing to suggest anything other than a kidnap.

_(only the children)_

His worry had only increased as time went on. He had flown over the world several times, trying to recognize a voice out of millions to set his heart at some sort of ease. It was finding a needle in a haystack, as others had called it. The meaning behind the words had never truly set in for him until that week. His powers brought him limitless ways to make any sort of search easier. But to find a woman amongst the surface on the Earth with nothing else to go by except for memories even put him in an impossible mission.

_(he could do it)_

The flash of memory of the man with similar features as himself but a completely different outlook of the world hardened his eyes. It had been less than a full years since the man had died. There was even less time to separate from-

_(what was it)_

-the events that transpired afterwards. The sting that remained from the mere memory had left enough bitterness that made some of the other League members throw up. Superman was not one of them, but his stomach always churned in an unnatural way when he remembered. He tried to tell himself to think like the other man had. Emotions had to be stored away in order to get the job done. There was never time for reflecting and self-pity. The other man had gone far enough to plan in case one of the members lost their minds. If a human could do it, why couldn't a Kryptonian?

The new articles that lay before him brought him back to what should have been a bigger problem to his affairs. There were numbers and charts everywhere, printed on whatever medium they were meant for. They all said the same thing about Gotham. The Justice League had messed up. Gotham, without the care of the usual vigilantes that roamed the night, had fallen below the level of darkness that it was before Batman had arrived. There was never a news piece about the death of the heroes. It was the change in the air, from the static uncertainty to the wild laughing of those marked as insane. Gotham lost the battle with crime the second she lost her knight. Even with the few others that had stepped up to protect their home, there was no hope.

Clark could no longer ease his conscience over the matter. He had lied to himself over the months. The truth was mentioned at every meeting that Black Canary was at (as she was the only one out of what few remained of the heroes from the dark city that attended the League meetings on a regular basis). But no one wanted to listen. It would be pulling the skeletons out of their resting place. It just wasn't worth it.

And Gotham had simply gone to hell.

His cell phone, flat against the table as if waiting for the world to move on, gave a short burst of music. It did nothing to deter anyone else within the diner. In fact, many would have thought the noise as normal and gone on without remembering it. But things were never that simple for Clark. If there was one thing that he had learned, it was that receiving a text from one of the League members could only mean that something had happened.

The message, which was less than the standard offer of one hundred and sixty characters, stood against the white screen. It was almost mocking the Man of Steel. The words were part of some other existence that wasn't affected by missing loved ones or the bothersome things that made up emotion. All it was, in the end, was a piece of light from a screen that was indifferent to the world. Everything around it was not so lucky.

_From: Barry Allen_

_We found a bird._

* * *

><p><strong>July 11, 4:30 PM<br>Washington DC**

Superboy was a clone. In the eyes of the others, that was all there was to his existence. There had been no point of denying the fact that he was made to kill the source of his existence; that, in the end, he had been made as a weapon and would have been disposed as one if the events did not save him. The others knew better than he did, after all. They had years of experience. All he had were a handful of months and computer brainwashing of facts that were turning irrelevant.

He wasn't sure if the existence was any better on the other side.

The cold metal that made up the headquarters that was earth bound meant nothing to him. All that it took was his sheer willpower, and he could have leveled the place with ease. It was the same willpower that kept the teenager from killing the others.

_(was it different to them)_

His steps paused briefly as he passed the medical section of the building. His hearing picked up the steady breathing of the lone woman in one of the beds. Catwoman had yet to recover. She had quickly fallen unconscious after uttering her sentence, and had yet to wake up. Scans had revealed that her body had suffered from multiple bruises and cuts. As she was under mind control, she was unable to receive treatment or even keep herself from adding additional stress to those areas. A peek into her mind by Martian Manhunter had added to her list of injuries. If her physical body recovered, what was left of her mind could be an empty shell if luck did not feel like saving the woman.

_(not worth it)_

Superboy continued on.

It was only when he came across Black Canary that he actually stopped. She glanced at him before turning her head slightly away. There was something unsaid in her eyes. He had never seen it before, but considering that his life was as short as it was, it wasn't much of a stretch to wonder why. He took what little he did know and hoped that the rest would work out in his favor.

"I-"

"Save it." The two words seemed to fill the long hallway, despite the lack of volume within the voice. "Aquaman underestimates him as is. It wouldn't be too hard for the both of you to defeat him."

His blue eyes widened with a combination of shock and revelation. The scowl, however, remained. "Why aren't you stopping me?"

"Because you need him more than you need Superman."

_(did I ever)_

She continued on in a soft, steady tone. It was as if nothing about the situation fazed her. "I knew what they were like before they died. The League can say whatever they want about the situation, but I think it's all bullshit. Not that my word matters." Her lips twisted into a sad grin. "The Batman I knew wouldn't allow something like magic to change his outlook on the world. That only leaves one other option."

Superboy found himself nodding. While he did not know what any of the family was like before they were killed, the stories that made up his understanding painted enough of a picture. They had not been killers. That had been heroes with even more potential. Superman had willpower that was supposed to stop him. But willpower from Smallville meant nothing to the darkness in Gotham. Only something truly wrong could have sent the family off their path.

"Don't go back to the mountain." It was all the advice he could offer her. It would never be enough in comparison to what she had done for him. The other members of Young Justice never bothered to see, but Dinah had filled some of the gap that Superman should have filled himself. All that was blocking the distance between them was his lies. The truth, however, was far too ugly to tell. Even to her.

"I won't."

There were no questions that sat in the air as she continued to walk in the other direction. They both knew that there was something held captive in the building. It was worse than most nightmares that other heroes suffered through. No one was able to wake up from reality and dispel the hold of fear with words of comfort. Truth just lied beyond the metal barriers.

Superboy's patience ended the second he could no longer hear Dinah's footsteps within the building. There was a louder thud that came into his sense of hearing right afterwards. It was familiar, yet brought him on edge. Knowing what could occur did not ease his nerves as it did for others. His fist twitched slightly at the images that filled his head of what could happen. Still, he turned back to his original destination and continued to walk.

The room at the far end lacked any companions. The metal was harsh under the lighting, daring anyone to challenge it. The door was made from the same metal, a handle adorning it on the right side. The color was pure of any darkness that one would have expected hidden within the Justice League. The crimson liquid that was starting to seep through the almost nonexistent space between the bottom of the door and the floor was only beginning to corrupt the pure image.

He opened the door without any caution. The smell of pollen and dirt filled his nose, hitting him with all too familiar scents of his true home in the mess that he was in. His boots dripped of blood as he stepped further into the room. It was darker there than in the hallway. The fact made no difference to his eyesight. Instead, it left a sense of dread that swept passed him and dared for others to come. Columns of earth had pierced the metallic floor, sending some of the remains to litter the rest of the room. Vines poked out of them, remaining still yet radiating with life.

At the center of it all was a lone teenage boy clad in a black jumpsuit. His hair fell around his face in a sloppy manner, partially soaked in blood. His muscles were laughable at worst, failing to compare to the heavy hitters amongst the League. The pale blue eyes, however, evened out the playing field with just a glance. There was a power radiating off of them that could easily challenge Superman's.

Aquaman was propped up behind the boy, entrapped by the vines. Blood was pouring out of the various wounds that scarred his body. The orange portion of his clothing was drenched, leaving only a few spots of the brighter color to peak out. The man's eyes were closed with the unconsciousness that plagued him. Another was lying face down at the king's feet. There were more wounds on the other, making her the bigger contributor to the growing lake of blood.

"Kon." The name was short on the boy's tongue. It was only a few steps that separated the clone from the other teenager. "They were too… annoying."

Superboy-

_(Kon)_

-nodded once. His eyes returned to the fallen figure, slowly registering that she was Wonder Woman. His sight turned back to the teenager-

_(Dryad)_

-and stayed there.

Kon watched as the usual gentle features began to morph into something more sinister in the artificial lighting. What was once a gentle smile contorted into a smirk. The light in the pale blue eyes twisted themselves and whispered of something that reeked of insanity. Even his hair became darker, casting a shadow over his face.

"You know that it wouldn't be hard for me to get him, too." The voice was soft, lacking anything sinister and was rather just stating the facts. Kon felt as if it was the tone that innocent children would use when explaining their own actions. He wouldn't know: he had never gotten a chance to listen to them himself. "We can risk it all-"

"No. You have your plans to stick to. Unconditional win." It took only a few steps before the clone's arms wrapped themselves around the small of the two. "I remember."

"Why are you saying that, Kon? Is it because of the Superman within you?"

"It's you."

A chuckle slipped out of the boy who was once Timothy Drake Wayne. "I feel so honored. But still... it's unfair for you to have to suffer because of the plan." His eyes dimmed for a moment, before lighting up by the invention of an idea. "Let's parade around. More mayhem and destruction will do wonders for the decoration of the place."

* * *

><p><strong>October 30, 10:43 PM<br>Gotham City**

_It should have been over with long ago. Tim had been adopted by the Wayne family when he was ten, cleaning his hands of his biological father. There were no strings attached, and the man had agreed to it whole heartedly once he woke from his coma. The media barely played it up as there were far more interest scandals at the time._

(so why now?)

_The press of the cold, damp earth against his side was comforting. A few rocks, lost from some bigger piece within the area, poked into his skin but never punctured. There was no blood. Any veins that were broken were within him, keeping the blood under his skin to form bruises he is not sure anyone would ever see. The arm that he lay on had numbed from the pain. He is sure that it was broken from the fall onto the rough earth. His wrists and ankles were bound by rope that bit into his skin. But it was all nothing in comparison to the looming figure overhead, shovel in hand._

_There is something that Tim wanted to say. It wasn't as if he had lost the ability to talk by some gag. Rather-_

(too much little)

_-he wasn't sure what he should say. He knew that it was ironic: he had one of the widest ranges of vocabulary out of the many people that he knew, yet he could not figure out what to say. There was not a single world on his tongue._

_The man at ground level had a gleam in his eyes, outlined by what little light that found itself in the yard. It wasn't close to the insanity that tinted Joker's mind, but it was close enough. His features were similar to the teenager's. Tim couldn't help but wonder if his death was prolonged because of that simple fact._

_His biological father was saying something, but Tim paid no mind to the words. His breathing had increased-_

(last time)

_-to compensate the fear that made his heart beat faster than normal. It would come down to the choice of his body: to be crushed by the dirt being poured on top of him or suffocate underneath it all. He had no control of which would take his life._

(bullet would be better)

_Either way, there was something painful waiting for him._

_His gut wrenched. It was an unpleasant feeling that was drowned out by the numbness that was trying to keep him alive, yet did not go unfelt. Something else had whispered to him in the middle of the night. It was an unnatural, feminine voice crying for what was lost. The whole family was crumbling._

_Nightwing-_

(Dick)

_-and Batgirl-_

(Artemis)

_-were already dead. There was no way to know for certain, as the youngest of the adopted Waynes had not heard back from either one since their patrol began. But he relied on the wails that no one but him could hear. It was enough._

_The others would be dead before morning broke._

(so tired)

_He directed his empty gaze from the man he should have been able to call his father to look at the sky. The artificial lights had broken some of the night's appearance, but there was still enough darkness to make out the difference of where stars laid in the sky. They were, of course, indifferent to what was happening light years away from them. Very few, if any, knew of the great man that wore a cowl. Fewer still knew his family. No one would notice that they were dying._

_He blinked. Then again. His vision flickered before him. The fatigue that had helped sealed his death was overtaking the fear. Indifference-_

(doesn't matter I'll join them)

_-was filtering in. Any noise became softer as long overdue sleep cradled him gently, hiding him from truth. He couldn't bring himself to care anymore. It was just too much._

_He closed his eyes and allowed sleep to play its game. He was no longer interested in the method that would take his life. He just had a single hope that death would find his buried body soon._

* * *

><p><strong>July 11, 5:22 PM<br>Washington DC**

There was something in the clone's eyes that sent Clark into a sort of panic. It wasn't that he had never seen the emotions cross someone's face; rather it was the surprise to find it on the other's usually stoic face. That alone could have sent the man contemplating for hours if he had the time.

_(love)_

Timothy Drake Wayne twisted his lips into a smile. It was innocent yet tainted with something else. It was clearer in the pale blue eyes of the teenager: insanity soaked in blood.

The others had fallen easily to the two teenagers. Superman was the last one standing. There was a vague hope within him that he would prevail before the rest of the faux headquarters fell, but he was doubtful. Several rooms had already crumbled under their power, splattered in blood in every way imaginable. The three of them were currently in the largest room of the building. The air was static with a dare for one of them to move. It was all that was needed to end the battle.

"It's been a while, Clark. I would ask about the wife and kid, but, well, you know how things go. The one you should have showered with love is gone and the one you could biologically call a kid hates your guts." Tim shook his head in mock disappointment. "I really thought that you could have been a better father than Bruce Wayne. That man would have taken in a demon if he had found out that he had been the thing's father."

"Dryad." Superboy's deep voice rumbled with the name. "The others-"

"It's okay, love. They have information on the next location already." Boredom flashed in the pale blue eyes. "In fact, they probably wouldn't care if we were caught. The only thing that matters is that they'll all awaken soon."

_(Bruce Dick Jason Artemis)_

"To be infected after we die, was it?" Superman was startled out of his thoughts by the question. "Your face tells more than you think, Superman. That's what you want to believe. That in the core of every one of us, there's some good. That we didn't do those things because we really meant them, but because we're confused."

A harsh chuckle from Superboy told the man otherwise.

"You want an answer? It's called revenge, Clark. There's no other way around it." Tim turned his attention to the large computer monitor. "Nymph was upset last time she came home. You managed to hide the location of the others by simply leaving it to chance. But you obviously didn't do your math right. You see, the more possible locations we knock down, the more chance there is that the next one is jackpot. All you've managed to do is delay the end."

"No." The word slipped out of Superman's lips. He was beginning to feel sick at the memories that were beginning to reawaken. To believe in the words meant that their past actions were worse than they thought. That they had been completely wrong.

It meant that they had brought Hell to Earth.

"No?" A burst of laughter emerged from the third Robin. "It's too late, I think. Far too late. Look at Kon." He raised a hand lazily and gestured to the other teenager. Superboy returned the motion with a small smile. His fists, dripping in blood, loosened ever so slightly. "You tossed him aside like you did with the truth about us. I think karma wins here, Clark."

"Dryad. Young Justice is here."

Tim's eyes lighted up with malice. "Lead them here, Kon. I want them to see my powers."

Before Superman could blink, Superboy had left. The hallway that he had used for his disappearance covered itself in earth that rose from the ground, blocking it off from Superman to follow.

"Frustrating, isn't it? Powerless to stop these babies." Tim moved his hand in a single strike to his opposite side. Vines shot out of the barrier, bringing forth green flowers. "Synthetic Kryptonite, if you will. Took me a few months to develop, but well worth the time. My father would be proud of me."

Superman opened his mouth to counter the statement-

_(insane)_

-but the teenager beat him to the words. "I'm speaking of my adopted father, of course. The… biological donator to my existence is of no concern to me. In fact, death's fair judgment should set him straight."

"You would kill him?" The question was growled out-

_(like Bruce)_

-in anger. Despite whatever had afflicted the teenager that should have made his words not his own, there was something about the way he said them that scared the Kryptonian.

A drop of blood fell from the black locks of hair. "He killed me first, Clark. Buried me in a garden, of all places. It's only fair that I return the favor."

"He-"

"Yup. Killed me." A thumb drew across the teenager's neck. "Like I was nothing. Like I was your Superboy."

"I would-"

"But you _would._ You think that I don't know the darkness in your heart, Clark? I've seen the way you avoided the truth like the plague. You're as much as fault as the murderers." The pale blue eyes smirked at Superman. "I wasn't the one to chase Superboy away. I just opened the doors."

"Tim-"

"Don't call me that." A stabbing pain suddenly bombarded the man's senses. The pointed end of the earth that had pierced his stomach from behind made itself crooked so that it could look at him. There was a faint green glow to it underneath the blood, setting fire to his suddenly dulling senses. "It's Dryad now."

The vine-like bit of earth withdrew, bringing more blood out of his body. He could feel himself falling to the ground. His costume was soaking up his own blood. It had been tattered throughout the punches-

_(Superboy)_

-and earth and vine attacks-

_(Robin)_

-had sent his way. The blood drenched it very easily, leaving his skin to suffer from the sticky warm substance. The metallic smell to it made him even sicker.

"Oh, look! Young Justice!"

Superman's eyes had closed as his mind began to shut down. The jolt of adrenaline that should have flooded his systems had fallen to the will of his body to keep him alive.

"I only need one of you, really. And I am fond of my precious spy-"

"You monster!" J'onn's niece sounded hysterical. The piercing quality of her wail did nothing for the sense of doom that was beginning to wash over the man. "How could you?"

"Easily. Come on, little M'gann. Read my mind."

A shriek arose from the girl a second later. In the darkness of his closed eyes, Clark felt as if he was trapped in one of the many nightmares that had plagued him at one time or another. "No… no…"

"Sorry. It's true." The mocking was back in his voice. "And as I was saying, I want my spy back. Kon?"

Superman's senses were beginning to dull in his self-inflicted darkness. The senses that should have been bombarding him with the state of the battle had begun to slip away with the blood.

"No… you're-"

"Sorry." The clone's voice was deep and lacked any emotions. Not even his scowl could be heard within the single word. "But I rather stay with them."

Tim's laughter filled the large room. With only his sense of hearing reporting to him-

_(fading)_

-it was as if Superman was surrounded by the mocking quality of it. There was nowhere he could turn to as he slipped farther away. Even an adrenaline rush would do nothing to the sheer lack of blood that was beginning to rush out of his body, much less his injuries.

"I now have one child. Maybe we should bring back another…?"

_(no)_

He wanted to do something to protect the younger members of the superhero community. Anything would have been better than his position on the floor, possibly dying without the medical care. But those last thoughts came just as everything else was fading. There was nothing else he could have done but spent the last second hoping for some sort of miracle. But afterwards, there was nothing.

Superman had lost consciousness.

* * *

><p><strong>April 22, 11:58 PM<br>Gotham City**

_The clone sat against the stone wall, his legs bent to create a mountain with them. His forearms rested on his knees, one crossing over the other. His gaze sat at the floor in front of him. If it weren't for the sheer determination within his eyes, the posture could have easily been mistaken for one of depression._

_The shadows loomed over the teenager's presence. His whole body was claimed in the darkness. It fitted his appearance quite well, complimenting the aura that he wore with the natural scowl that accompanied his face. It was not something he would have come across if he had remained amongst the heroes. In some ways, it was fitting._

_"Are you upset?" Dryad kept his footsteps to a quite thud that filled the cave with minimal sound. The walls had not reacted to the newcomer, taking a stance of indifference. That alone made the silence scream out to the teenager._

_"No." The answer was short and honest. It brought a quirk to Dryad's lips that evolved to a smile. His lips were not twisted as they usually were, and for once it was enjoyable. A twisted smile meant that there was revenge that needed to be accomplished, pain that never left, and of death and insanity. But the one that graced his lips had love in it._

_"You do realize that Superman will never think of you as his child when he finds out."_

_"You told me that when I joined you. I know." Kon gazed up, meeting Dryad's pale blue eyes with his sky blue ones._

(such determination)

_"And you're determined to help us." A sigh managed to escape his lips before he was able to stop it. In the back of his mind, Dryad could feel a part of the child that he once was protesting. The child understood, but some stronger sense of justice told it that revenge was wrong. It was the same thing that prevented the third Robin from taking a life while he protected the dark city._

_But the sense of darkness was too great._

"_Well," he muttered softly. The word echoed against the rock that made up his current home. "I can't stop you. We won't go through with anything until the other two are ready." A growl found itself in his throat. "The Justice League was lucky that time."_

"_How did you lose?"_

"_Gotham was in trouble." There was nothing more to add to the statement. Dryad placed his back against the jagged edges of the wall, feeling as the sharp rocks poked into his back. His body made no protest, however. It was too late in his existence to care. "It'll be different this time. We'll win."_

"_And then what?" Kon's gaze fell back to the cold floor. What little light there was illuminated the color of his pupils. "What do people do afterwards?"_

"_Destruction comes to mind. But mine is a rather long version of it." A smirk came back to his face. "You'll see. It will be a long, glorious end to their justice."_

(justice doesn't kill those that protect her)

_"Okay." One of Kon's hands reached up for Dryad's. The smaller of the two complied, watching as their fingers weaved together. There was something so casual about the moment that reminded him of his other life. The life had something innocent about it, despite the corrupting darkness that had engulfed everything else._

_It was before he saw what darkness ignorance had._

(no justice left)

_The child within him never spoke up after that. It had remembered what it was like in the lonely grave. It had remembered how justice had left him to die._

_The silence in his mind was like death. Dryad welcomed it._

* * *

><p><strong>Tim is Clark's interrupting cow, is he not?<strong>

**For the purposes of this story, Artemis is Batgirl. There is a reason behind it, and it's not just me thinking that she should be a Batgirl (which I do).**

**As for who's up next... it's the one who was only mentioned once in this chapter.**


	3. Pyroead

**Another chapter, another round of wondering what is going on. I know that it's evil. But I'm evil, so it works out. :D**

**Thank you to all of those who've been reading. Cookies to those who reviewed. (And not M'gann's cookies, because I'm not that evil. Yet.)**

**Now for my warnings of this chapter:  
><strong>**-Another couple is revealed in this chapter. However, I'm not sure how everyone takes this couple. If you've read "Eden" (another one of my crazy stories) you should know the couple. If you don't, and you get down to the part where it's revealed and hate it, either you continue on or you can stop. I won't be offended. But I promise you that there is an actual point in the grand plot of this story that involves the couple. I did not throw in this pairing for the hell of it.  
>-Apparently, "pyroead" is the name of fire nymphs. Not sure how accurate it is, but I needed a name for this guy here, so... Pyroead :)<strong>

**Remember, there's a reason that I don't own Young Justice: something like this would have happened.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p><strong>July 11, 5:34 PM<br>****Happy Harbor**

Nymph had thought that the name of the mountain was lifeless-

_(not like us)_

-the first time she heard it. Out of all of the names that the Justice League could have come up with for the first base, they had named it Mount Justice. It was unoriginal and fell off of her tongue as cinder blocks. Even the Watchtower had a title sounded better than the mountain's name. It was a pointless thing for her to ponder over, but it had stayed with her all of the years.

She had only been into the original headquarters once in her life. It was back at the time where she was in a wheelchair.

_(still out fight)_

Her boss-

_(poor Bruce)_

-had taken her there with the others. No one else had occupied the numerous caves; it was the holiday season and the other heroes had families and friends and illusions to keep up. Their tour was extensive, even delving into the dark corners that the rest of the superheroes did not know to exist. But _they_ were trusted. They knew each other's secrets.

_(died together)_

It only made sense that their fates afterwards were tied together in the complex knot. They survived the world, only to get their revenge together. And even the situation that they were buried beneath was not separation. The League had simply delayed the killing.

Her steps were quiet as her eyes searched the darkness. Lampads did not leave the clues that they had hoped for. His paranoia, in either version of his existence, had only gone so far. He could have not planned on every moment.

But he had planned far enough to begin their searches.

"Red Tornado, if only you weren't such a fool." Her muttered words filled the air ahead of her path. Memories created mere minutes ago came back to flood her conscience. It was not meant to haunt her, but to entertain. "A broken record just saying the same old thing. Restriction... restriction. A meaningless word. We want our answers. We want Father and our siblings."

_(revenge)_

Somewhere amongst the rough walls, there was a silent call. It was a harsh whisper that filled her head. She could hear the breathless sleep of all of the bodies, but only one was worth anything to her. The others were simply corpses, waiting for nothing in the preserving fluid they were drowning in. Their purpose, in both life and death, had been fulfilled.

It was the one of dead heartbeat that interested her.

Muse stepped behind her. The sound of her footsteps was as foreign as Nymph's in the cave. However, hers did not press against the walls demanding freedom. They were simply following the path laid in front of them.

"I am surprised that Lampads had thought so far ahead," she muttered softly. Her thoughts did not go to the captured android. "He did not know the full extent of our future, yet he had it all ready for us to find."

"He guarantees victory. Anything less would mean no justice." Nymph allowed the last word to stale the air before adding, "His justice, at least."

Muse nodded. "My husband will get his retribution."

"Of course, Mother." Her steps became strides as the voice became louder. It was unaware of the simple fact that its owner was unconscious, blissfully unaware that the love-

_(forbidden)_

-it was dreaming of was hidden away. She could only imagine was the surface of his anger would be when he found out the truth. Anything beyond that would have destroyed her mind farther than death ever could.

The cave ended before the voice could grow louder. Her hand laid again the brown stone, indifferent to the cold feeling beneath her fingers. "A neglected spot for the grave. How... unfitting."

The older woman nodded. Her dark eyes seemed to look through the barrier. "My sons never deserved this." The words were hissed out angrily, tainting the cold air of the cave. The poison within them would have killed even the android if he had been amongst them.

"Son," Nymph whispered back gently. A bubble of fear pressed her stomach, but stayed contained. "The other one is not here."

"And where-"

"I won't be able to tell, Mother. You know that." Unsaid words filled the rest of the conversation. They both knew that Pyroead was different than the others. His feelings were outspoken, in death and in life. Even the traps of his own mind could not contain his emotions. It was the only thing that allowed Nymph to hear him.

Muse's hand came to the rock htat served as a teasing barrier. As Nymph retreated, she could hear the shaky breath of the other. A pulse of energy followed the end of the motion. The air became rigid, freezing Nymph's body in a powerful hold. The fear that the younger had when she first saw the woman after death had settled came back. There was something about her power that went unsaid amongst the two children who managed to escape. It was pure power.

The rock shattered under Muse's hand. What little remained-

_(sand dust)_

-fell to the ground in a pathetic looking pile. Some of the dust gathered in the air, filling the space with its earth tone. It settled on its own accord, unaware of the raw power that could have destroyed its existence with little regret. Behind the ruins darkness emerged. There was something about the shadows that reminded Nymph of the one city that defined her life and death.

Another aura fell into place, sitting against the large metal containers that were lying down against the ground. It beckoned them like a child would. Unlike the rest of the small chamber, there was a distinct human feel to the containers. They were-

_(coffin shaped)_

-half cylindrical, while the bottom portion was made of a rectangular block. The lighting gave them an almost mirror-like quality. What little was able to enter the cave glowed as it touched them. There was nothing to distinguish them from one another.

_(or a thousand)_

Nymph pointed to each one in turn, counting them slowly. "Only five. Four corpses, dead and unaware."

"How?" Muse's voice was shaking. Any sort of calmness that should have been there was lost. Nymph had known that Muse had yet to see what the rest of them did on the endless nights that came, one after another. The woman had missed the tainting of their souls in those nights.

There was a darkness that came from the hours full of rooftops and fights. Muse had missed it all. Muse had something that the others had lost, yet she was losing it herself.

Nymph shrugged. "They're dead, Mother. They are not like us. Most likely, they had died of causes outside their control and allowed the Justice League to use their corpses for their own needs." As an afterthought, she added, "Many give their whole existence to things that they believe in."

"Pitiful."

_(old selves would do the same)_

The words that the younger woman could have said died in her mouth. The past was poisonous. There was nothing in those memories captured into words that would have made the pain any duller. Death had done what it could. Time had followed afterwards. They could not erase the scar.

"Which one is he in?" Muse's eyes gazed over the metallic surfaces. The calmness in her voice returned, which was only all the more startling for the other. The sadness in the dark eyes was her only answer. It took Nymph a moment to realize that the woman was mourning the others. It mattered not that they were someone else's children: Muse had suffered too much to ignore others with a brush of her hand.

_(yet revenge)_

Nymph's eyes fell close. The world collapsed into darkness. There was nothing there to save her-

_(drowning burning burying suffocating)_

-from whatever awaited her. It was fitting. After all, she had been left for death to claim. Her family could not help her because of fate's intervening hand. People she could have called friends were ignorant-

_(no bliss)_

-of it all.

And the ones that should have done something failed to care.

In the darkness, there was a single strand of something in the nothingness. It flared with boldness that could kill without a second thought. Unlike the body that housed it, it was aware of the silence. It wanted blood, revenge, love, and everything that it was being denied. It knew the grievances that lay against it. There was nothing within it that cared about life in general. The secret that sat in front of them all was the definition of its existence: life was not as everlasting as it.

It was all that was currently left of Pyroead.

_(depressing)_

"The second container from the left." The statement lacked any sort of emotion. She could not afford any of it now, just when the return of the rest of the family was beginning. The core of her bring had hid in the playfulness and raging emotions. They were only beginning to turn into a single blend. But until the moment was needed, she would keep both sides.

Muse nodded once before kneeling next to the container. Her hand rested against the metal. For a brief moment, Nymph could feel the-

_(cold no answers pain why sons daughter husband where)_

-emotions coursing through the other woman. Grief had stuck against her own feelings, piercing her mask of slight indifference. Her legs feel under their burden, bending at the knees just enough to send her collapsing to the ground. Her fists met the stone floor. The dust that littered around was scattered within the air. Tears poured out of her eyes. They gathered at her chin before falling to the ground.

Muse blinked. Her body drew away from the container, yet her hand never left the metallic surface. "I'm sorry. My emotions-"

"They are your own business, Mother." Nymph's voice came out as steady as it had been merely a moment before. The sudden invasion of the other's emotions and thoughts, while not altogether unexpected, threw her off. They were strong, contained by Muse's mask. There was a sense of tragedy within the whole of the other's existence. "I apologize for not keeping my shields up."

Something cold in the dark eyes materialized as Muse nodded. The anger that hid in them was not meant for the woman. Unlike Dryad, the eldest woman of the group kept her anger. She did not attack her children because of mere emotions. Any use of her power was for the lone purpose of finding the rest of her family. If harm must come to others that stood in her way, she would kill. It was simple for her.

Muse turned back to her task. Like the stone, the metal fell to the wave of energy. Shards fell around the body drenched in a liquid that was thicker than water but just as clear. The liquid spilled against the ground and the other containers, pooling at Muse's knees. The outskirts of the stretching puddle reached Nymph's boots, glistening in the limited light.

It was the body that held both of their gazes. The teenager was close to being a young man in physical appearance, although there was something in his appearance that suggested that he passed that age mentally a long time ago. Scars marred his chest. Some overlapped and joined to one mass of discolored skin. The muscles were like a separate entity: they were larger than an average human's, yet no where near a size that other heroes possessed. The face was the centerpiece of the figure. A scowl had been carved into the features, never leaving the unconscious face for a moment. The dark hair was astray from the liquid, a single lock of white hair at the widow's peak resting against his forehead.

It was as peaceful as Nymph had ever seen the other. To keep the boy in such a way would be a sin against him.

She submerged herself in darkness again. The single strand of emotions was livelier than before, yet paled in comparison to what it should have been. Her mind sent out a single name. Out of them all, it was the single name that was the key.

_(Sylph)_

* * *

><p><strong>October 30, 10:59 PM<br>****Gotham City**

_He had been wishful. There had been a voice in the back of his mind telling him to be otherwise. It whispered about reality, luck, and Gotham. It had whispered what was most likely to be the truth of the situation._

_That was what turned him away from the voice. It was the simple, painful truth._

_His wrists were touching behind his back, a film of sticky blood slipping in between the space. The rope was digging harshly against the other areas. Even his costume could not protect him, as there were large rips littering the black and red. Most of the exposed skin was covered in his own blood. He reasoned that what areas remained hidden were riddled with bruises. The lack weight pulling at his waist, where his belt usually sat, only made the weight of the situation pull at him more._

_He felt only one thing going in his favor: his red domino mask kept any emotion hidden. While his lips were twisted in the frown that sat on his face most of his life, his eyes had all of the emotion. If it were not for Bruce-_

(Dad)

_-there would not have been the white lenses that hid his soul from the world. It kept him to himself as he watched the seconds slip by on the digital counter._

_Jason Todd Wayne had less than a minute to live._

_The Joker had chosen an inopportune time to not take up a cliché. The bomb sitting upon a crate was set to go off at eleven. There was no time for Jason to summon his willpower to overcome shattered bones and bleeding body. There was no time for the rest of his family-_

(gone dead too late)

_-to save him at the last possible second like every other time. There was no time for him to save his family. He had already failed Dick._

_There was only time to wish for peace in death and revenge in life._

_A ghost of a memory overcame his mind. His ears rang with Dick's laughter, faded from the adrenaline still running in Jason's veins. The memory was the two of them, sharing their bed in the deep recesses of the Wayne Manor. It had been the younger two of the family that startled their sleep. Artemis had a smirk upon her lips, while Tim's was hidden behind the camera. A pink bow had captured some of Jason's hair. Somewhere in his rage, he knew that the adults were laughing somewhere in the mansion._

_Dick was laughing too. That made everything alright._

(sorry for failing)

_The timer was dropping faster than it seemed to have before. The taste of blood in Jason's mouth spiked, becoming more metallic to him. There was a bitter undercurrent to it as well._

(why couldn't they Justice League doesn't care hypocrites)

_He spent a few seconds boiling over the one group that could have saved the family. Then he stopped. Revenge could wait until after death. Those thoughts were not worth his last precious seconds alive._

_His sight had focused on the timer. The last remaining seconds passed by, and he never drew his sight away from the clock. He wanted to see his own end. A fiery death, fitting the one who wore red upon black. The one who had grown from a child trying to survive by stealing the hub caps off of the Dark Knight's car._

_It was the remains of that child who died first from the bomb. The rest of him came quickly after._

* * *

><p><strong>July 11, 5:59 PM<br>****Washington DC**

Kon's knowledge of the family was made up of stories and photos. Nymph gave him memories that were not his own, but better than any of the ones that were actually his. Dryad had called it ironic.

There was comfort for Kon in the small portion of what was once the proud Bat family. It was all he had in the world he had just joined. While the others were kind, the family was closer. It was all that mattered.

The clone could feel his indifference in his power. The metal had fallen into pieces when his fist impacted against the cold surface. Shards flew around him, sparking from the pure energy behind the attack. The lights danced in his eyes before disappearing just as quickly. There was some rage in the scowl that was contorted onto his face, but it was not his own. It was borrowed.

_(Dryad)_

Fear from his new opponents-

_(once friends not sure anymore not lies indifference)_

-had tainted the air. He had yet to land an actual attack on any of them, but there was something in him that sent the others scurrying. They had injured themselves in their panic. Blood was smeared against stone and metal. It made the whole area appear darker. It was almost home for Kon.

That was when he came.

The young man had made up stories of rage and emotion. He was untamed by social rules or cares of others. It was something that Kon could find within himself. Somewhere in the stories that filled his nights away from his supposed team, he had grown jealous. This other person had received the love that the clone was denied from his biological father, despite being almost the same. The family had taken the other in without a second thought. It was something Kon understood, yet was an alien to.

Kon's lover turned his head slightly. His pale blue eyes danced in the remains of the fire that charred the hole burned within the stone and metal. He seemed bored with the presentation of power, yet there was a glint of surprise.

"Pyroead." The name slipped into the air, pausing any other action. The heads of the other teenagers in the large room turned towards the newcomer. He was clad in a black jumpsuit, not unlike the others, but it was obvious that it had been hastily thrown on. His hair was in the same, disorderly style. A single lock of white hair sat against his forehead.

"Dryad." The burning blue eyes sat on the Young Justice team before wandering to the fallen figure-

_(Superman)_

-on the ground. His eyes darted to follow the blood that had begun to trail away from the body. "Where's-"

"Sylph?" The younger of the two-

_(age matter in death?)_

-shrugged slightly. "I only guessed bodies were at Mount Justice. I did not expect you to be there. As for the others… Let us say that luck will need to be on our side if we expect to find them soon."

The frown on Pyroead's mouth fell even more. "Can I trust you to even find him?"

"You ask such stupid questions at the wrong time, Pyroead. If you have yet to notice, I was in the middle of kidnapping one of the children." With a lazy wave of his arm, Dryad brought their attention back to Young Justice. The team had been frozen stiff as if they had no will to move. "Hm. I did not expect your presence to be like Nymph's. Did you bring-"

"Her dagger." A flash of metal flipped through the air before Pyroead caught it by the very tip of the blade. Light danced off of the polished metal while highlighting the matte metal that made up the rest. "I'm surprise she was the one who got this little baby. Of course, if these fuckers hadn't-"

"I suspect that you stopped them so we can talk, not to inform them of… our situation." The frown was evident in the tone. "Would it not be better for the League to admit their mistakes?"

There was a brief look that passed between the two. The pale blue eyes met the flaming blue ones and stayed there with a focus that made Dryad look-

_(sane)_

-serious. Something was passed between the two as the seconds slipped by. They had no need for words between them: they had suffered through too much, and a silent language had developed from the pain.

"…fine. Take your pet and go." The dagger flipped through the air again, possessing a rigid manner that matched its current holder. "I only want one of them, right?"

"If you can handle that." Dryad turned to the hole that Pyroead had stepped out of, eyeing it carefully. What had remained of the flames had died down on their own, leaving only a warm glow to the outlines. The clone could see that similar holes had been scarred into the walls behind it. The trail ended the same time the building did, leaving no guess work for the amount of wreckage the other created. "Let's go, Kon."

The words came as a request, but he carried them out as if it were a command. It was out of Kon's wished to act in the robotic manner in front of the others. They did not have to question their identity. That was literally handed to them through the social interactions they had partaken in since they were young. But he had simply been dragged into the world-

_(Dryad dragged me freed me)_

-and had to start where others did when they were too young to remember. The others could not define him enough. Superman had not even wanted him to exist. It had been Dryad, Nymph, and Muse that gave him a purpose. It was only fair for him to repay them with his existence.

"Does is matter which of your… friends I get, kid?" Pyroead barely glanced at him as he asked. How the fire being had known about his connections to the others-

_(anything at all)_

-was somewhat lost on the clone. A voice in him whispered about the young woman amongst the group. Her powers could have easily remedied lost time with a single thought.

There was only one way Kon could bring himself to answer the question. It was a painful reminder to the immobilized teenagers, but it was needed. Revenge was far from his mind. He had not harbored anger at the others for what they already had. Jealousy was far too common for him to exact pain upon another for that reason alone. But a simple reminder of what he suffered was enough for them all to move on.

_(am I sorry)_

"They're not my friends."

* * *

><p><strong>November 12, 5:00 PM<br>****Gotham City**

_He had thought he was a mess in comparison to the rest of the city. There were many dark corners and alleys that served as the black holes. He had fallen into every one of them, only to escape with part of what little light remained in him gone. It was taxing and he was addicted to it._

_It had come as a shock when those nights were suddenly replaced. Less than two weeks had separated his life from his life in death. The darkness was not only home to the likes of him. It was his very existence. Being a part of it made the world appear a little friendlier than it should have felt in the gothic city._

_That was before he peaked into the darkness of a lone apartment._

_The man had an appearance that added more decades to his middle aged years. His whole posture had fallen at the weight of the death of his daughter. There was no body for him to mourn, despite the sheer amount of blood that was gathered from the scene. Batman had failed to show up since that night, leaving his symbol hanging in the night air constantly. There were no answers. Instead, the darkness of the city had continued to grow._

_Even the deaths that righted the wrongs did nothing._

_His own footsteps against the small metal railing did nothing to stir the other man. There was a bottle of some hard liquor sitting besides him, ready to accompany the man into another night of illusion-filled reality. A glass filled his right hand, changing the contours meant to hold a gun._

"_Hello Commissioner Gordon."_

_Even Pyroead-_

(just Jason two weeks)

_-could not understand why the words fell out of his mouth. But they came out as smoothly as night had to the city._

_The man broke from his sightless glare. Cracks in his aura grew into gaping holes as his head turned. His lips trembled as the words spilled out and fell heavily into the air. "You're… dead."_

_Pyroead's wit found an answer before he was able to comprehend the words. "They never found a body, so who knows?"_

"_But the butler-"_

"_Alfred can be trusted in the family. The rest of the world… who can say?" The truth of the confusion became slightly more apparent to the younger man: Joker had killed Red Hood. But Jason Todd Wayne had mysteriously died with the rest of his family a day or two later._

(protected in death)

_"But I'm not here about me." The statements continued to tumble out of his mouth without any consideration. It was as if someone was using him as a puppet without his realization._

(could have asked)

**(I apologize child)**

_"I was… sent here to see you." He mentioned nothing of the darkness that had pulled him in. It was not sinister like the corners and edges of the streets and minds. Rather, it reeked of something that even death did not have. "After all, who would be suffering the most now that the Waynes are gone? Surely not the Commiss-"_

"_I resigned. Quit." The older man's answers were clipped. Whatever mask they were attempting to hold over his emotions had failed._

"_You're not drunk yet. Your answers should be a bit better, considering that I came all the way from Hell to see you." When he did not receive an answer in return, Pyroead sighed. "Even Batman couldn't save his kids. Why do you think he's gone?"_

"_You mean…" Dawn emerged on the darkened face. "Batgirl and… and Robin…"_

"_And Nightwing and Red Hood. We're all his children." Whether the information given to the other would be the final piece needed to identify the face behind the cowl did not matter. After all, they were all dead. "He failed to rescue us. And he died trying after he failed."_

"_Dead. Hmph." The glass suddenly shattered in Gordon's hand. "And the city with him."_

"_Don't be too bitter, Commissioner. He tried to save your precious girl too. She was the first amongst us." As the thoughts came together for the other, Pyroead continued on. "Batman would have given his life for hers. She was as much as his child as we were."_

"_And he failed."_

"_Failed us all, Commissioner. Don't feel so bad."_

(if only we could have been of use)

**(Fate says otherwise)**

_The shards of what remained of the glass glittered against the kitchen light. It was the only thing that brightened up the kitchen, despite the overhanging light bulb. The liquor glowed by itself. There was a whisper that accompanied it, full of sweet illusions and lies to get one through the night. It sickened Pyroead slightly._

"_Listen, things are… going to get worse. And an… we'll call her an angel for the time being. Well, chick wants to see you. All you have to do is just sit there for a second. Got that?"_

_The words were coming too easily out of his mouth. He knew what would happen next, yet it seemed too much in line with the rest of the universe. His eyes glanced at the scenery that was laid out before him, looking for an answer. The glint of metal blades called out. There was also a duller whisper amongst the objects litter about the room. It was the peace that it brought that settled everything._

(not my fire)

_If Gordon even heard the words, he made no sign of it. The weight of the burden that Pyroead found himself with lightened slightly. The man was dead in all definitions of the word except the literal one. It was pitiful for a man like Jim Gordon to be trapped in such a way._

**(free him)**

_He grabbed the gun in a fluid motion and pulled the trigger with another. The commissioner barely moved as the bullet entered his skull, leaving a trail burrowed within. There were no words on his lips or anger in the man's eyes. His body had seized up out of habit. A trickle of blood slipped out of his dying body before he collapsed._

"_Thank you."_

"_Nymph." Pyroead placed the gun against the table. His blue eyes never left the warm corpse, which had taken to the ground upon its collapse. "Was this supposed to be-"_

_"No. Not my job." A lone figure removed herself under the shadows of the doorway to the hall. Her presence in the room was almost invisible. "I'm glad that you were the one to come, Pyroead."_

(could have been Bruce)

_"Don't thank me, crazy bitch." He eyed the window, wondering if the echo of the gunshot would attract any attention. "He was already dead."_

* * *

><p><strong>July 11, 6:15 PM<br>****Washington DC**

Fire. It was everywhere because of him.

M'gann watched as the twisted smirk grew. His eyes flashed with its own blaze, dancing as he looked around at the destruction. Another ball of fire materialized slightly above his hand. Another scream was slipping out of her lips. Her throat was hoarse from the sheer amount that she emitted since he had arrived. If she had had the capacity to, she would have screamed more.

"You know what really bothers me?" The man's voice swept over the crackling flames that had consumed part of the headquarters. "Everyone told us we had a choice after death. They acted like it was the most obvious thing in the world!"

Roy's anger came bubbling through the destruction. It managed to drown out the pain of the others littered across the building. Her own blood boiled as she felt his strong presence in her emotions. While he was in another corner of the room, his words whispered against her mind as if he was right next to her.

_(not my own love hatred death)_

Her other teammates were not fairing as well as the human amongst them. Kaldur had burns running across his arms. The tattoos were hidden amongst his injuries. The speedster had blood dripping against his bright costume, running against the yellow and red while the battle continued. Both of them were breathing heavily. They had a desperate will to fight, and nothing more.

"But they never died the way we did. And they were so close to preventing it." The sentence slipped out as a graceful whisper. "So… so close."

The fireball smashed against the manmade wall with an impact that shook the building. Behind the flame was a sheer amount of power. It was destructive. Uncaring, even. But not as beautiful as she had heard others describe such situations. There was nothing there that she could find with beauty. It was all rigid with destruction and blood, tainted with darkness.

_(course beautiful)_

The other voice was louder in the presence of the others. It was as if the voice was her own mind, singing out to her with advice. There was a corruptive edge to it that the Martian had been trying to ignore for the past week, yet there was something else…

_(I am)_

"M'gann!"

The warning came too late. Another shriek arose from her throat as the fire came towards her shaking body. The seconds gave it size. The man gave it power. It gave her little chance of succeeding in any kind of escape while leaving the rest of it to failure. Death was breathing down her part of her neck-

_(death life)_

-with a scythe against the other portion.

But the fire did not aim for her directly: a mere foot away from her it diverged into eight points. They slipped around her as if their target was behind her. The heat emitted tickled her skin with burning warmth. There was a relief under her fear, telling her brain that everything was-

_(illusions)_

-alright.

It was short lived.

"No! M'gann!" Kaldur's voice was as cracked as her own. It was only the desperation that carried it through as the cage completed itself behind her. There was only enough room for her to stand as she was. Anything else was beyond her capabilities. Even her shaking was limited by the fear that infected her.

The smirk that adorned the man's face pulled more at the corners. "These powers make so much trouble. The second I lose focus… Well, who knows? I could just kill her. And believe me, that's best case scenario."

"Jason." The name came out cool and crisp in the foreign tongue. Accompanying it was the other presence that was stronger than she could remember.

_(not like mine)_

Her uncle's voice was a comfort in the disorder. While the name was an Earth one that she had yet to comprehend, there was something in the other Martian's voice that made it clearer. The man was an enemy. The man was once a friend. The whole battle was only a confusion that had overtaken them. The others-

_(dead ones)_

-were good deep down. It was only a matter of reminding them who they were.

_(remember pain betrayal death_

_left us_

_anger_

_family suffering_

_else is there?)_

The fiery trap cursed out against her. Something rushed through her blood, awakening her weakened body with a burst of energy. Suddenly her brain was looking for the nonexistent escape from the world. The prison reacted violently to the hinting the thoughts gave to the air. A flame brushed against her skin, daring her thoughts to try and challenge its power.

_(maintain must stay_

_green)_

Something within her started to fight her mind. She wanted to believe that it was the other voice, not ready to lose her to the incoming thoughts of freedom. It would have made more sense than the truth to the girl. It would mean that the betrayal was not her fault and, rather, it was a hostile outside force.

_(lies)  
><em>  
>But the truth was the thing to come out. Her body found itself stressed by the flames. It registered a hostile force just ready to take her life away. The biological, automatic response was understandable. It wanted to protect her to survive another day. While the Martian's mind screamed against it with defeat filling the mental voice, her body changed.<p>

_(truth)_

M'gann could feel J'onn's eyes upon her changing form. Despite the fire, he kept a steady gaze on her. Some part of him might have guessed a false truth: she was desperate to live and that alone allowed her to change. But truth was not so kind to either or them.

The other man-

_(Uncle called his Jason)_

_(Pyroead)_

-tilted his head slightly. His blue eyes danced even more with the change while his smirk turned vicious. "Who knew? Second chances to some and not to us. Unless you didn't know yourself. That just makes the girl all the better of a prize."

_(couldn't be green)_

_(matters?)_

"Alien got your tongue? Pity. I wanted to rip it out myself." The pyro's tongue tasted his upper lip in indication of his hunger of blood. While the truth of his motives was not altered, the air suddenly grew rigid. Even the fire grew tame with the silent proclamation.

It was Wally who managed to mutter the tense question. "What... What's going on M'gann?"

"Crash course: She's a White Martian. You know, the aliens that invaded and were the reason for the creation of the Justice League all those years ago." The news came out with a bored glee. "Dad never understood everything about it. I always told him it was 'alien racism' but hey, I've been wrong before."

The words stung, passing her chaotic mind into her heart. There were always elements that she herself did not understand. She could not explain the war away or justify motives. She had only been a child amongst the soldiers when they were awakened. There was nothing amongst the battle plans that gave her access to reasons or understanding. There was only war and bloodshed spoken.

_(condemned)_

_(escape where?)_

_(no where)_

"Hm. Let's hit the pause button, shall we?" The annoying familiar sense of lost control filled her original form. The cage disappeared as the light played off of the lone blade amongst them. The minds of the others fell into a false peace.

_(Uncle)_

Even Roy's rage was quelled.

"I have two options. Either leave the girl here or take her. I'm not really interested in any of the rest of you- Well, maybe lil' Speedy over there, but that's for later. If I leave her here, I suspect drama and hate and questions and eventual mandatory hugging fest. Always seems mandatory with Leaguers and all. But taking her away…" His free hand met his hip in the manner of a smirk. "Well, that just opens another can of worms."

_(such a tease)_

"I think that just answered itself. I'll let you assholes regroup and heal." An afterthought followed almost immediately. "Yeah, Dryad did some crazy shit so you all will wake up tomorrow alive. He thinks that death is nothing compared to a tortured life." There was a lazy shrug that followed the words. No questions of the other man's choice arose from the action, making it as absolute as M'gann's fate. "And next time we meet, J'onn, tell me if she's worth saving, 'kay?"

And darkness settled over her mind.

_(death would have been a mercy)_

* * *

><p><strong>July 11, 11:59 PM<br>****Gotham City**

Pyroead allowed his eyes to adjust to the dimness that engulfed the caverns. Time had done little to the physical appearance. The others, however, had altered the mood that sat in the air. The darkness was not the same that occupied the space when there had been more present. There was certainly a gloomy characteristic to it all, but the young man could feel something more. Something...

_(dead)_

The only thing that attempted to fill the emptiness was the soft footsteps created in front of him. Muse had taken to pacing the corridor with a look upon her face. It reeked of no emtion, but there was something deeper in the eyes that said otherwise. The echoes that filled the cave followed the same suit. There was nothing else that indicated anything different about her from the several months that had separated them. It had fallen into place the way it always did between them. It had worked the same way the family had.

"Whatever you're thinking about won't be solved like this, Mom." Unlike the others, Pyroead found comfort in referring to the other by the less formal title. Dryad would have done the same rather than follow Nymph. They all would have been informal. But things changed with time. Nothing could go back to the way it should have been for them.

_(alive)_

"Solving should be the least of my concerns," she muttered back. Her footsteps halted as she continued to speak. "You brought me back a lovely pet, Pyroead. But why not keep the Martian for yourself?"

"No need. She is better off with you."

_(death too kind)_

"You're waiting for Sylph." There was a knowing tease buried in Muse's words. "I think he will be flattered."

"Probably," he agreed, tossing the word carelessly in his mouth. "He finds his pleasure in small things."

_(even death)_

"You may call them small, Pyroead. Birth into darkness makes it so. But he was born in spotlights and love," she reminded him gently. Her footsteps settled only a small distance away from him, her attention shifted elsewhere.

He continued her game by ending it. "But that was not what you were thinking about."

_(revenge consumes her)_

"I have a request of your time." Muse glanced at Pyroead. Her dark eyes said more than her words, yet concealed just as much. It might have been the sole reason why Pyroead had taken to be in her company rather than the other two. She didn't fake insanity. "Your siblings are tracking down the others. I now have my own pet. But you-"

"Don't sugar coat it. I'll be happy to do it Mom. Just ask away."

"Very well. There's a young man on the Young Justice team. I've taken an interest into his personal life. Something about it reeks of rotten devotion to some lovers. I wish for more information about the situation before I make any judgment."

"Lemme guess: guy's name begins with R and ends with oy. Sound about right?" He could not pretend to care for the other. The archer was unfriendly to most of the family, even in the duration of a brief fling between him and the eldest Robin. There had been a cold fury that settled amongst the children, demanding answers for undeserved emotions. "I'm surprised that the other two haven't killed him yet."

"They knew you wanted his heart for what be had done to Sylph. And do not forget about Kon: he is one of us."

A chuckle filled the damp air. "I see myself in that kid. He reeks of death."

"He is dead."

The statement did nothing to clear the smirk off of Pyroead's mouth. "I figured as much. I actually expect that our little Dryad meant to let the kid die and be done with it all."

"Love works in ways unexpected." Her voice was laced with memories. "Things worked together for us."

"Hm." Agreement was almost mandatory. He knew the effects of love upon others. There was something about it that made the hellish conditions tolerable. "Do you have any idea who his lovers are?"

"No. The only thing that can limit the search is that he finds them attractive, from what I can understand." There was a subtle hint of frustration hiding within the words. She did not waste any anger on the thought.

"Let it not be said that Roy was equal opportunity for anybody he could screw into a wall." He paused for a second before allowing a question to be brought into the air. "Are you expecting him to survive this ordeal if he learns?"

A gentle smile replied back. "Of course not. I am just curious to his habits. You will be deciding his fate no matter what comes to light."

"Me?" Chuckles erupted from his lifeless frame. "The victim is the jury-

_(revenge defines us)_

-Mom. I'm just the executioner."

_(will paint them all in death)_

* * *

><p><strong>Now for actual end notes:<br>-The thoughts in bold during Pyroead's second flashback? Definitely another voice. :D  
>-I took liberties with the fact that M'gann's a White Martian. (Aren't they supposed to melt in the sun? That's the only thing I learned from <em>Justice League Animated.<em>) J'onn didn't know the truth because of deception and my need for scarring character with drama. It's a gift.**

**And the next character chapter... eh, I'll leave you guessing.**


	4. Siren

**Sorry for the wait! Now it's time for Siren!**

**I also want to thank all of you guys for reading, and a special thanks to those who review, watch, and/or fave this! You guys get a cookie! *holds out cookie shaped like a bat***

**There are some notes at the end of the chapter about some things. You'll see.**

**Still don't own Young Justice D:**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p><strong>July 12, 4:19 AM<br>****STARS Lab, coordinates unknown**

_(Mommy it hurts_

_he hurt me and Daddy_

_everyone hurts_

_want to stop them_

_Mommy?)_

It was as if she were waking from a dream. Her mind had suddenly grown up within a span of seconds as the memories finally came back to her. It had been a state of unconsciousness that had overtaken her. But there was something about it that felt off to the blonde girl. There was something-

_(violated)_

-that made it completely wrong.

She rose from the water she had found herself submerged in, feeling cool droplets fall from her skin. Her blonde hair was setting against her back. It gave her comfort in the foreign setting. It was not that she was scared of the unknown threat that she was presented with. Instead, it was just the sense of uneasiness that set her off. It was not hard to see why when one examined her death.

She blinked a few times. There was very little lighting, most of it seeping out of automatic computer processes. They were tinted with different shades of color as a sign of their importance. It was a code that she was not familiar with. She couldn't help but wonder what they meant, as if that alone could tell her everything about her surroundings.

It was when she spotted the lone figure that she remembered the moments before her forced sleep.

"Your father placed us here." She gestured to the metal container that held both her and her water. It was about an inch thick, radiating the life of the technology and magic within it. Some of the security features were somewhat familiar, ranging from alarms to traps. The Justice League had wanted to assure their eternal sleep. They were fearful of what would happen if they were awake.

Maybe the heroes wanted to preserve their memory instead of letting the newfound rage taint it. It she had not found it angering and pathetic, she might have thought the action to be sweet.

"He did." The magician before her was sitting on one of the many swivel chairs present in the room. Despite her obvious growth that was approaching the end of adolescence, she appeared small. Her head was cast downwards with a hint of shame. Whether it was her father's or her own was yet to be known. "He helped store away all of your family, but he took the longest with you."

"Hm." The blonde looked down at her container, not surprised to find herself in such a state of undress. "I hope it was not for my body. It would be a shame for him to die for doing something as stupid as that."

"He…" Whatever bravery the magician had faltered slightly, taking away her ability to speak for a second. She tried again. "He had requested clothing. He argued it was for dignity or something like that. But the League was scared of any powers that they didn't know. They did store you in ice."

The older of the two had validity in her words. If the Justice League had known about her control over ice as well as water, they surely would have stored her in pure nitrogen. The only thing that prevented the discovery of her powers was one of the Gotham villains that she had left alive in her rage: Mr. Freeze. With the constant factor of his underground presence, the League had incorrectly guessed it was him for the ice related problems.

"Zatanna… why did you wake me?" There were several unasked questions-

_(help your enemies_

_understand what_

_find me how_

_kill you)_

-hidden within her words.

It took a few seconds for Zatanna to compose herself. Her physical body did not shift at all. It was the mental existence that collapsed at the question, unsure of itself. Her actions had meaning behind them and there was good reasoning for them. Whether the magician agreed with herself or not was another question altogether. "My father is torn between helping you and leaving you be. Either way, he thinks I'm in danger."

"So you removed his chance to choose." It was an easy reasoning for the blonde to understand. When she had been alive, she would have probably done the same thing to relieve her family of such choices. There had been a few memorable times where she had, leaving herself to be riddled with scars and the likes. It had always been worth the pain.

Zatanna nodded once. "Even if you kill me-"

"I won't." The statement sat in the air alone, before the sounds of the movement of water pushed it away. Standing on her legs was almost a foreign language that she had forgotten long ago. It suddenly became a matter of keeping balance. That did not stop her words, however. "There is no reason to now, is there? As long as you both stay out of my way, I have no reason to kill you."

The magician took in a breath. The words were an overwhelming promise. "You-"

"I swear on whatever magical thing you need me to swear upon. The fact remains that you will stay alive as long as you stay out of my way." Her eyes closed to submerge her in darkness. The water, now that she was standing, came up to about mid-calf. What hadn't fallen to join the larger body clung to her bare skin. The touch was cool, which came as a comfort to her. It must have been so long since she felt that she had such control of her element. "I suggest a vacation."

"Thank you Artemis."

"Hm?" the blonde hummed out. Something-

_(seduction)_

-laced her voice automatically, as it had before her imprisonment. "Didn't you get the memo, Zatanna? It's Siren now."

* * *

><p><strong>October 30, 10:12 PM<br>****Gotham City**

_She was drowning in the bathtub, and all she could think about was her family. Her family that wasn't based on biology._

_Her biological father is a killer. She doesn't remember the stories because they were numerous and filled her head when she was barely five years old. Luck had played a part in keeping him away from her. Sportsmaster was sent away for some long mission that required years to complete. He was one of the best, after all. It was the only thing that had saved them._

_Artemis reached up to tear off the hockey mask that separated him from her. Even that would have been a small victory for her. She doesn't come up short. Instead, it is her strength that fails her._

_She knew her mother had been lucky as well. She married-_

(Dad)

_-one of the many billionaires that lived in the demonic city. There was no real love when they had said their vows. Instead, there was one small blonde girl looking at three black haired boys. Their parents were together not for themselves, but for the children. It was noble attempt by both adults to create something they had lost themselves._

_She grasped air in her closed fists. Her eyes blurred under the water, distorting the image of her killer. She could feel her long, blonde hair pushing against both her and the tub. And everywhere, there was water._

_A short stream of bubbles floated from her mouth as more pressure rested on her throat. Blood from what few scratches she was able to create slipped into the water. She could see, through her confused eyesight, the delicate patterns the crimson made against the water before dissolving into it. She couldn't help but think that it was a pretty sight._

_The mask was now long out of reach. The man behind it-_

(supposed to be Dad

but just isn't)

_kept his arms steady. Whether he cared or not about killing his child was hidden from her gaze. She knew that she was only another kill out of his many. It was disheartening-_

(why should I matter?)

_-but only confirmed what she had already accepted as truth._

_It did not make her death easier for her._

_The fight had already been lost. Something was calling for her to sleep. It was not her mother's voice, filling her head with long forgotten lullabies that kept her quiet at night. It was another's voice, one of more age and experience but with the same amount of care. The chilling water grew warm against her skin, letting her clothing ripple against the remains of the waves her movements had created._

_It was almost as if she were at home. But her home was in a mansion that embodied darkness and justice in one swoop. It was in the darkness of caves that hid what felt to be her true identity. Even on the rooftops that had been left behind by the sunlight, she felt at peace with the world around her. But the bathtub should not have come with that comfort. In the deep shadows of Gotham, what had more comfort than her biological father, she was being killed. Yet the water was becoming her new home._

_As Artemis faded out of life, she followed the lullaby.__It was a comforting, yet somehow dark, tune. Still, it was not the call she was hoping for. It wasn't her mother's lullaby._

* * *

><p><strong>July 12, 10:23 PM<br>****Washington DC**

Kaldur was the only one of what remained of the Young Justice team that appeared calm in any form of the definition. It was not as if he wasn't rushing through his own head to find moments that he could claim were a sign of the darkness of the other two members. He had begun the moment it had been implied. But once again, what he coveted had slipped through his webbed fingers as if it was water. There was too little information on both accounts. There was even less of what the Justice League had told them.

_(blind trust)_

The Atlantean ignored the voice that sat in a corner of his mind. He had already learned the consequences of listening to it.

Wally had taken up to pacing on what little remained of the tiled floor of the hallway. While only portions of the structure had suffered with massive destruction while neighboring parts had taken damage through association, the flooring everywhere had suffered. Cracks split tiles into multiple pieces, sometimes allowing earth or plant life to escape into the air. If it were not a taunting reminder of whom their enemies were, Kaldur would have found the use of nature almost peaceful in the otherwise artificial building. But he had no luxury at the moment for even that.

Roy, on the other hand, had disappeared once he was checked for injuries. His anger, once again in the time that Kaldur had known the archer, spoke for him. Anyone who had decided to visit the base of the Justice League was treated to the sight of Red Arrow storming out. Roy had been loud until the moment he turned to walk away. Even after he was silent, there was something about his presence that was-

_(wrong)_

-loud.

The Flash's voice stormed to them with his continued protests. "Supes, they deserve to know!"

A pause followed, with the only explanation being that the Man of Steel was answering with his own logic. It had been going on like that for ten minutes. Kaldur assumed that it had actually been longer but they were simply not able to hear the hushed words. Both men were too stubborn to back down to the other, each with their own reasoning governing them.

As a leader, Kaldur could understand both sides. The logic of the matter did not fail him in that regard. As the one being kept in the dark, however, he sided with Wally's uncle. He wanted to know, if not for protection by being able to prevent, for a sense of understanding why his king was in the condition of near death.

The thought was like bringing the taste of bile to his mouth. No one had a true recollection of what time they regained consciousness. It had been sometime within that morning, leaving more than enough moments filled with blood that his mentor should have been dead. There had to have been some luck to find that their opponent of fire was speaking the truth: the first one-

_(took Superboy brainwash maybe free will)_

-had placed something into the air-

_(magic)_

-that kept everyone alive despite of the injuries. However, some were kept alive in only the barest of sense. Both Aquaman and Wonder Woman were in comas when they were retrieved. There was plenty of blood on the floor that belonged to them, yet the two had not died. It was a miracle, on one hand. But the voice-

_(such injuries makes death better)_

-told him otherwise.

"Supes, they are being targeted." Barry's voice had flat lined with his statement. "If they don't understand, who's to say they won't go off like Superboy?"

The question stopped Wally from pacing. He looked towards the remains of the doorway before at the Atlantean. The unspoken question received a shake of the head as a response. As much as he hated being left in the dark, he knew it was something he should wait for.

Superman's low (yet noticeable) answer came as a mumble. Barry's voice came in almost the same manner, but had a calmer tint to the unintelligible words. Then, true to his hero identity, the man came out to the hallway within a blink of an eye.

Barry regarded the two teenagers behind the white lenses of his costume. "Well, you guys wanted to know. Frankly, I wish we were allowed to tell you when we saw Barbara, but Supes thought it would be too dangerous for you to know. But now…" The words trailed off. The man found a part of the undamaged wall to lean against. The lean began to slide against the material until Flash was sitting on the floor, his gaze blankly staring forward.

"Uncle Barry?" Wally was instantly by his mentor's side, a hand reaching out in an attempt to comfort the man. Kaldur knew that it would not help. The redhead probably knew as well, but did not allow his doubt to show on his face.

"When Batman and his-" The Flash seemed to choke on the next word. He tried again, as if it were nothing but an inconvenient cough. "-his family died, we tried to locate the bodies. But there was nothing. Roy mentioned it: only thing that we could find anywhere near the BatCave was the butler. You kids don't know much… Heh, Bats would kill me if I tell you… Better start at the beginning.

"Well, Bats went into the business not because of powers like the rest of us. He's more like Green Arrow and Speedy- I mean, Red Arrow. For Bats, it was personal, since one of those criminals killed his parents in front of him when he was eight. The guy set out on a large quest to train himself to fix Gotham up. That's why he was as smart as he was.

"There was a butler in the family who acted as a father for Bats during those years. Always loyal, very good at keeping secrets, and damn good cook. He helped Bats when Bats was starting out, making sure the equipment was ready, helping keep up with the secret identity persona, made sure Bats got some food and sleep every once in a while. He was family. The only family.

"When the Justice League started, it was because of an alien invasion. White Martians, known for war and annihilating almost every Green Martian- that's why Martian Manhunter's so upset about M'gann- came to Earth. I was trying to help out when I met the others. That's the first time I met Batman. He had two kids with him at the time: Boy Wonder and Batgirl. They were totally trained and all. Just as good as Bats. It was scary, since they were the first sidekicks that we've ever met.

"That's how I met the rest of the family. It gets kinda hazy here, since when they were ready with the next kid, the current one and the new one switched days until the current one took a new identity and let the new one be permanent. Sometimes I lost track of who was who. In the end, there were three Robins and three Batgirls. Four were Bats's legal kids, but they all treated him like a father. At one point, Batman got married to the third Batgirl's mother. Think it was before she was fully trained…

"Anyways, they were close. You can't help but be jealous of that. Think Bats trusted them more than he ever trusted the League. When we found out they… well, when they all died, we went to find the bodies. All that we managed to find was all of their blood in the BatCave. Even the butler didn't know what happened. It was like someone took the bodies and didn't leave a trace. We hoped that that was the end of it.

"But it wasn't."

Kaldur glanced at Wally. He could feel his anticipation of the news overtake his eyes, overpowering the fear that was present. As a leader, he could not afford to show any. Wally, however, was not given such a responsibility and did not have the luxury of a reason to hide his own. Instead, his gaze fell on the floor as a means to hide his emotions.

_(like this with Roy?)_

"A few days afterwards, all kinds of villains were found dead in Gotham. Big time nuts, small time crooks. They were all dead. There were reports of someone other than Batman being seen, but the evidence…" Barry let out a rough laugh, the first time he did anything besides talk since he began. "Well, there was no way it _wasn't_ Bats and his kids.

"We did stake outs and all. More people began to die, including some who didn't deserve it. Commissioner Gordon was one of them. The news kept saying it was suicide- since his daughter was killed by the Riddler and all- but I never believed it myself. Something about the evidence didn't sit right with me. Never could prove it, though.

"Eventually, we found out who. Some… some _asshole_ brought them back to life. We thought it was Ra al Gul, since he has a history of doing it. But we were able to confront them and…" Barry brought a hand to his face and pinched the bridge of his nose with his index finger and thumb. "Dammit, it would have been better if it was one of those stupid pits."

"Lazarus Pits?" Kaldur asked gently. He had heard it once as an offhanded comment from his king. Being the Atlantean he was, Kaldur immediately went to consult libraries and sources both in land and sea. The search bared little fruit: a small grasp on the power behind what seemed to be unnatural. He found no need afterwards to look for more information. What little he had found felt corrupting in his brain.

Wally's uncle nodded once. "But it wasn't it. The pits bring about a temporary insanity. The Bats… well, they all seemed sane to a point. And all of them wanted to destroy the League."

"But… but…" The question waited for Wally to get the other word out. "But why?"

The Flash opened his mouth to answer, only to be empty when another voice interrupted.

"You don't need to know." Superman floated out of the doorway. Whatever effect the mention of Superboy's betrayal had on him was gone, leaving a controlled, contorted anger on the man's face. His blue eyes were almost ablaze in the mixture of artificial and natural light.

_(nothing everything like Superboy's)_

"That isn't relevant to what is going on now." The voice was crisp and clear, yet some part of it screamed with a rehearsed mask. "What you need to know is that we had managed to capture most of them and injured, almost to the point of death, the ones that escaped us. We thought that it would be enough, and that we could research-"

"Research?" Barry stood up. Despite the white contacts, his fierce gaze could be felt with ease. "You know we couldn't research them. Not after-"

"We're still trying," Superman growled back. The two teenagers shared a glance, trying to catch the argument that had happened over and over since the appearance of Barbara Gordon. "We can't use the actual bodies, but we are _trying_."

"Where are the bodies, then?" the Atlantean asked, keeping his own voice calm. It was the only thing he could do in the presence of the two famous superheroes. "I assumed that is what they are after."

"They're stored randomly." Barry's words came out before Superman could even begin. "We had to keep it a secret from ourselves, since… well, most of us still care about Bats."

"How could you have made it random?" Kaldur questioned. He kept his gaze on Flash, knowing that Superman would not give them the information that he deemed to be unimportant to them. Wally kept a bit of distance from his uncle, although at the same time he was ready to reach out to the man.

"We had… other things stored in the same kind of containers." The pause within the statement brought attention to the wording. However, the man continued as if nothing had happened. "We picked a ton of locations, and just randomly picked containers to go to each. No one knows where the bodies are stored."

_(no one)_

"We'll be working to find and protect the containers. Until then, Young Justice is confided to the mountain. We're not taking the chance. J'onn will come later to scan your minds." There was no need to mention about Superboy.

_(or M'gann)_

The man said nothing more, turning away and floated out of the hall with a hurried speed. He left the air as tense as it had been in his presence. The way he was acting was almost unhealthy.

"Bats's death hit him the hardest," Barry muttered softly. "We don't like talking about it much."

Kaldur nodded once. He could understand the heartache, despite his overwhelming sense to help his king. If King Orin was in the League and knew of all the facts, he must have chosen friendship and honoring the dead over the potential danger. "I have one more question."

"Go ahead, kid."

"You said that the family was very close. If they had known that they were in danger, would they not have contacted the Justice League?"

Logically, the question had merit. Pride could only go so far when concerned with loved ones. The stories that had made up his understanding of the Dark Knight portrayed him as a caring man to those he loved. If it came down to it, he would have allowed other metahumans into Gotham to save his children. They would do the same if any one of them was in danger. There was no reason for the League members to find themselves without such a call that fateful night.

The expression that hardened on Barry's face said otherwise to Kaldur's thoughts.

"There are some things you kids are better off not knowing." The demeanor of the man changed, building a stoic wall around what was once depression. "Sorry." There was no actual feeling behind the word, which only served to agitate both teenagers more. It was as if Flash suddenly realized that they didn't deserve to know the whole truth. There were faint traces of Superman in the stance.

"I apologize for my question." Kadlur didn't mean a single word of his own statement. He knew that his king would have understood.

* * *

><p><strong>July 12, 9:40 PM<br>****Happy Harbor**

It had been a quick reunion before her daughter turned her mind to revenge. Muse was not all surprised that Siren-

_(Crock passed it on)_

-chose that course of action. The girl was like Pyroead in many ways: she spoke in the language of anger, although not at the level that he did. Still, it was enough to dictate her actions. She had suffered from the League's choices and watched as her family was injured. It was the greatest insult. Retribution was something that was to be expected.

They both stood on the rocky edges of the mountain, waiting for the arrival of the teenage heroes. Neither had spoken a word since the morning, as having the other's company was enough. Muse watched as her daughter's blonde mane followed the wind with a graceful feel. It contrasted sharply with the black bow in her left hand. The elder woman could remember the day father and daughter designed it together. Lampads-

_(Bruce)_

-had worried about protection. Siren-

_(Artemis)_

-was more concerned about showing her father's symbol.

A flash of yellow tinted with red sped away from the mountain. The blur past with something mystic about its brief appearance. To some extent, Muse found herself questioning if it was ever there to begin with.

Her daughter, however, was certain.

A lone arrow that had sat against the ground was suddenly picked up. The string of the bow was pulled, ready to fire the load. It was all achieved in a single fluid motion that was painting its grace right in front of Muse. It was not hard to find the beauty within.

The blur came again, this time simultaneous to the release of the arrow. Both stopped within a mere second of each other, neither giving away which one was first. The blur turned into a boy-

_(so young)_

-with red hair and emerald green eyes torn wide with the shock of death brushing against him. The arrow was so close to his body that the image could have gone in slow motion. The distance between him and the arrow was small. Inconsequential, even. Yet it was suddenly the difference between life and death. There had been so many factors-

_(speed_

_timing_

_need to kill)_

-that had allowed the child to live. But it was all decided on a whim.

"You could have killed him." The words ghosted over Siren as she stood to watch the confusion. "There was no reason that would have stopped you."

"Physically, I guess so," the teenage girl agreed. Her hand kept an even grip on her bow, her free one motionless since the action. "There's something about him…"

"Is it love?" Muse asked. She was scared of the possible answer, in the honesty of her heart. Never did she once saw her daughter pin for another. It was unnecessary, which had an appeal to the heart of many mothers and eased possible worries. Her father had liked it even more, as his saw his daughter as one of the few true precious things in the world.

"No. Just a warning to the guy who uses him. Thought that should make it clear that he should watch his toys." A finger tapped against her bottom lip, her eyes hazed over with thought. "It's true that he's a victim, though. That slut should be careful."

"I hope you are referring to Roy."

"Of course I am." It was a heartbeat later before the blonde added, "You're sounding more like yourself."

Muse couldn't deny it. "What do you plan to do if you are not going to kill the boy?"

The blonde cocked her head to one side. A haunting smile played upon her lips, contorting the rest of her face to reveal her pain and joy with a single glance. "There's only one left now. Might as well make things easier."

* * *

><p><strong>July 13, 6:26 AM<br>****STAR Labs, coordinates unknown**

The day before had faded when he had woken up to his current predicament. Kaldur looked back the blonde girl who was sitting in the corner of the walk in freezer, draped in only a towel. The remains of the building that she had occupied were crushed against the floor, serving as a wall for their containment.

What had happened in the hours that defined the mission had returned to him in a haze of memories. It had been very early in the morning. They had all slept with unease filtered into the air. It had been in one of the League's safe houses, Happy Harbor having obviously been compromised with Red Tornado's death-like state and the arrow that almost killed Wally. The older heroes had quickly ushered them to a plane they called the Javelin, not trusting the teleporter that had remained intact. The trio of what was left of Young Justice couldn't help but follow along. Fear had gotten to them in the moment.

It was about four in the morning when the alarm had gone off across the Justice League's system. The ones watching over them (Black Canary and Flash for the current ship) had instantly gone to the teleporter and disappeared with only a few sentences to the teenagers. Almost instantly, Roy took up his bow and hacked into the mainframe. While he was not a professional at any level and had taken almost an hour with the task, the knowledge he had obtained from Green Arrow carried through. They had learned the nature of the multiple security breaches in STAR labs across the country. Each location was followed by a list of League members who were currently there. Alerts for new places came and went, the indicators going like Christmas lights.

That was when Roy set the latest one to light up with a call, using the guise of Green Arrow to gain access. Wally's eyes had shone with dull questioning as Kaldur began to question the archer's decision. It what was expected when the title of leader feel upon the calmer teenager. Danger was a constant thought.

Roy's response was less than desired. He had simply played on surprise and height to push Kaldur through the teleporter. The Atlantean could see that he was trying to convince Wally to go in on his own will before the scene blurred before him.

That was when definite answers became lost. Kaldur was the only one to show up at the other side. He had waited for a few minutes, keeping his attention towards the doorway. Fear slipped into his veins as more time passed. Questions-

_(where?_

_League find out?_

_anyone know me?)_

-and pessimistic thoughts-

_(lost_

_stopped working_

_abandoned me_

_dead)_

-started to come as the lack of teammates became evident. A wave of panic almost drowned him as the situation truly dawned on him.

That was when the crash filled the air. It sent the storm of emotions away with a sweep of adrenaline and curiosity. He ran to the source, only to discover it lay on the other side of a giant metal door. It had closed upon his entrance, dooming himself and the only survivor of the fallen building to the freezer.

His gaze came back to the other prisoner of the cold environment. She had managed to escape with the barest of scratches. She had been taking a shower when the destruction sent her apartment tumbling into the laboratory. Her intelligence and agility kept her life, while the towel gave her some decency. Kaldur had already reasoned with himself that it was not her fault-

_(but temptation there)_

-for the situation she was presenting to him. No one ever asked to be placed in such moments.

His breath ghosted out visibly to them both. While the other was human and most likely suffering the worst of the temperature, it was also harsh to him. Despite his physique, Kaldur was not made to survive such cold temperatures from a freezer for a prolong period of time. While the ocean was cold, it was not frozen.

Careful steps brought him to her. She was huddled within her own arms, shivering slightly. Once in a while, the girl brought her gaze up to look at the remains of the building. There were no words that could describe the emotion that overcame her eyes. It was begging for an answer along with her life.

"I am sorry that you are caught up in this situation," Kaldur said softly. He tuned slightly and allowed his back to rest against the cold metal.

_(if you were stronger you could break through)_

"Things happen, I guess. Just never thought I would die like this." An almost lazy gesture to the metallic surroundings came from her left hand before she enclosed herself again. "What's your name, anyways?"

"Aqualad." The answer was automatic, drilled in to his mind when he had first came to the surface.

"That's not your birth name," she countered. After a second, she sighed. Her shoulders slumped slightly as her gaze fell back to the ruins. "Not that I should be asking. Secret identity and all. I've seen you on TV once or twice, I think. You seem really brave."

A blush could barely counter the cold atmosphere, although it did alert Kaldur of its presence. "Am I allowed to ask for your name, miss?"

"Yeah. Only fair and all. I'm Artemis."

"That is a pretty name. I believe that it is the name of the moon goddess of Greek mythology. Am I correct?"

"Yeah. It was my mom's idea. She wanted me to be strong since… well, we weren't in the best conditions for living." There was something in the end of the sentence that made it sound as if she was trailing off, yet she hadn't. The Atlantean couldn't help but wonder if there was more than just living conditions. However, he found himself in no position to ask. "Hey… You think you can go through part of the rubble near the window? There might be more clothing there."

"Yes, of course." Kaldur eyed the rubble, trying to calculate where it would be best to not send the rest of what remained tumbling out to the rest of the freezer. "This may take some time."

"It's fine. It's better than doing nothing, I guess." Her blue eyes seemed to hesitate. "Do you mind if I just talk while we wait? I… well, I can't just sit down and die. Even if we do, I…"

"It is fine. When-"

_(will escape?)_

"-we are freed, I promise that whatever said is not repeated."

"Thank you. I can promise the same. Well, that's if you actually reveal something to me." A light tinkle of laughter erupted from her. It made the air suddenly pleasant, despite the hanging impression of death.

_(Tula never like her)_

Kaldur ignored the voice in his head, although he knew that he had agreed with the last statement.

* * *

><p><strong>July 13, 8:41 AM<br>****Gotham City**

M'gann had been allowed to stay in her form of a Green-

_(Uncle)_

-Martian. To some level, she was grateful. She loathed her true appearance when she had realized that there was no peaceful existence for her if she stayed that way. If only she had explained that to J'onn. Maybe then he would have understood-

_(love me again)_

"Stop lying to yourself."

The woman's sharp voice brought M'gann out of her thoughts. Unconsciously, her wrists pulled against her shackles that kept her again the cave wall. The blanket that was settled on her fell toward the plush bedding that laid underneath. It was not as uncomfortable as she had first thought when she woken up.

The woman-

_(Barbara_

_Nymph)_

-glanced down at her. Out of those who occupied the cave, she was the one who took the most interest in the Martian. The others had given her some time to voice her pleas, but they had all left.

_(Superboy)_

"And there you go lying to yourself again." Nymph threw her hand out in a gesture of annoyance. "I really hope your imagination doesn't kill you. Idealism isn't your friend."

"Why…" The rest of the words, long since having formed in her mind, struggled to come out of her mouth. "…do you say that?" It had not been the first time the redhead had criticized M'gann's view of the world. Several times, Muse had interfered with whispered words.

"Because idealism sucks."

Suddenly the world disappeared. There was no cave to pressure them with the constant darkness. Any trace of the others slipped away. All M'gann could see was herself in pitch black, a soft light illuminating her. It took her a moment to realize she was trapped within her own head.

_(cruel sadistic)_

_u(you don't understand)_

Nymph's voice was not like the sweet tones she used to control people. It was carrying on the conversation as if nothing had happened.

_(you lie)_

_(you lie too)_

_(how)_

_(believe in yourself)_

An image flashed around her. There was fire everywhere, the looming presence of a White Martian walker being the only thing surviving.

_(took J'onn's love life understanding_

_too many memories_

_able to forgive?)_

Another scene came to life. Gotham was burning, yet still the dark symbol in the world that M'gann had always heard about. Somewhere in the background, she heard the screams of a woman. But they were too otherworldly to simply be human. It was as if there was something more to them.

_(your memories?)_

_(yes)_

_(screams?)_

A closer look at the rooftops showed a girl donning a black bat symbol on her chest and a boy clad in a clash of colors that somehow worked fighting. There was blood tainting what little skin could be seen.

_(who)_

_(us)_

The redhead was now in a cave. Her eyes were only haunted with the destruction that played out on the multiple screens as her fingers danced across the large keyboard with experience. She was sitting in a wheelchair.

_(never said)_

_(Joker did that)_

_(why?)_

_(fun)_

Another scene. Barbara Gordon was dying on her computer.

Then another. Only hours before. She was ending a call to Batman and was beginning to make another. The words were not contorted with Nymph's anger of the memory. The words at the other end of the line were crisp. Uncaring.

_(condemning)_

The anger suddenly made sense.

_(why tell me)_

_(because lies aren't worth it)_

* * *

><p><strong>July 13, 9:14 AM<br>****STAR Labs, coordinates unknown**

"Why must you be so kind?" Artemis muttered. She stood over Kaldur, the towel forgotten in her rage.

Kaldur didn't answer. The cold had claimed most of his senses along with the warmth. It was only a matter of time before his organ shut down and sent him to sleep. Even his emotions-

_(betrayal rage curiosity heartbroken)_

-could only let him watch her for so long.

"You made is so easy to love you. Do you know how much I wanted to kill someone once I woke up?" Her voice was calmed by her own rage, making her all the more fearful. "It should have been easy to watch you freeze.

"I killed so many before you. Hell, I fucking destroyed Talia al Ghul. And you want to know how?" Not waiting for an answer, she drew her hand in front of her throat and made a quick motion of cutting her head. "And that was the last part I cut. I took her out, piece by piece. For every moment she had tried to take my father away, I cut her up. Do you know how many times she tried?

"And there was so much blood. You know what I did with it? I took a paintbrush and _painted_ the room with it. Thought her dear old daddy would love it. He just wanted to extend his line through her. But even he must have been shaken when he saw that. Nymph told me he disappeared off the face of the planet once he saw it. No one's heard from him since that long."

_(insane_

_lovely_

_why would she)_

"And yet I can't kill you." The statement was dropped into the air without any care. "Maybe I should keep you as a pet. The League doesn't deserve you. Roy doesn't even deserve to know you."

His throat, barely capable of breathing, allowed him a single word.

"Why?"

"Why?" she repeated. "Right, the League didn't tell the _sidekicks_ yet." She crouched down, her face hovering over his. "Batman told us everything. When the Watchtower was being built, he let us help. Aquaman never told you it existed until recently, didn't he?"

If he had the strength, his teeth would have clenched at the words. There was truth in the accusation. Roy had revealed the Watchtower's presence to Young Justice out of a fit of anger. Aquaman had looked upset, but added no more to the subject. Kaldur could remember holding his tongue. He had told himself that there must have been a reason. Was there not always a reason for his king to make the choices that he did?

"Just imagine a betrayal worse than that. One that would cost you your life. You want to know what the League did with us?" The question was hissed. Her blue irises danced with the emotions that came with her words. It was not of pure insanity that he thought they should have been. There was something in them that he could not help but wonder if it was in the eyes of the others.

_(justice)_

"You're going to watch as we destroy them," Artemis commanded. "In fact, you will help. And you will always be my pet because you probably love me as much as I love you. Their betrayal will hurt, because it had sent me somewhere that even death can't cure. You will kill. You will like it."

Somewhere from behind his line of sight, Kaldur could hear part of the wall crumbling. There was not a trace of surprise within him. Once he had discovered that her endurance of the temperature went far beyond a human, there had been something about the girl that had screamed power. He never addressed it, if only out of admiration of her.

His throat allowed him one more word as warmth began to steal away some of the cold. "Kaldur."

She nodded once. "Siren."

And that was all there was to Aqualad giving up all of the values his king had placed into him. The voice in his head that spoke of what he desired was quelled. There was only room for one more thought before his body sent him to rest in the darkness.

_(Roy Wally)_

* * *

><p><strong>Now my notes:<br>****-Zatara and how Zatanna knew where to find Artemis: Since these two probably won't make another appearance in this story, I'm going to explain what happened. When they made the containers for the Bats that they managed to capture, the League took no chances. Technology and magic went into it to prevent escape or even waking. However, as Zatara has a daughter, he couldn't help but pity Artemis. With her container, he added a tracker so that he would be able to find her no matter which random location she ended up. He constantly debated with himself whether to free her or not. Zatanna found out about it and, being good friends with Artemis and wanted to relieve her father of the burden of choosing sides (which he had done since), she went and freed Artemis herself.**

**-Barry and Clark's argument: One of the things that is not so important (but I think should be mentioned, because I had originally planned it) is that Barry had pointed out the fact to Clark that Kaldur's mentor was on the brink of death because of Tim and Jason. He figured that Kaldur deserved to know why his king almost died, alongside the fact that they were being targeted.**

**-Bruce did adopt Artemis for this story.**

**-Waltermis: Not a big fan, in all honesty. The only reason for the arrow was because Artemis wanted to scare Young Justice.**

**-Kaldur and really cold temperatures: I have no idea how long an Atlantean would last in coldness, since the ocean itself is cold and therefore requires bodies that can handle that. At the end of this chapter, Kaldur is pretty much hanging on for his life as I guessed how long he could be in such a predicament.**

**Next is another bird!**


	5. Sylph

**Hey guys! I'm really sorry for taking so long with this chapter. There's been a lot of real life things going on that I had to deal with first (like I usually do, now that I think about it...). Not to mention that the thumb drive this chapter was on decided to attempt to crash on me. Not fun, I'll tell you. But it's here. Yay!**

**Before I go on, I would like to address two reviews that I received that has some relavance to you all. 1) Nope, not telling you guys anything big with a flashback yet. It ruins the pace and the purpose of the story. If you want to find out, you'll have to wait for the chapters. 2) Yes, Muse is not Talia al Ghul. I know some people were thinking that, which is slightly why I had Artemis/Siren kill her off. Muse's identity will be revealed soon. Until then, I will remind you guys that there are no OCs in this story.**

**That being said, I don't own Young Justice. And I now present you with chapter 5: Sylph.**

* * *

><p><strong>July 13, 10:20 PM<br>****Metropolis City**

_(air need space)_

Lex Luthor clawed at his throat, his nails pulling away skin to expose blood to the air. Around him, the darkness felt oppressive. It was disconcerting to the businessman, to say the least.

_(air)_

If he had to guess, he was in some sort of airless vacuum. He could feel his lungs contracting, pulling what should have been in front of him. But it wasn't there.

_(AIR)_

"I had hoped you would have lasted longer. You know, from the long winded speeches you give to inflate your ego. Your lungs should be practiced for not breathing for long periods of time." There was a figure standing above him with a sort of grace to his presence. The messy black hair that was currently plastered by the remains of water, blood, and sweat was familiar. When Lex had first saw it in the night, there was a part of his mind that had screamed at him. There had been something wrong with the image beyond blood and corpses. It was in the blue-

_(vibrant dead insane)_

-hue of the eyes that he found-

_(Richard Grayson Wayne)_

-his answer.

"Maybe it's time to let you breathe. Dryad would be pissed if I killed you before he could talk to you."

The vacuum ceased to exist. His lungs grasped for the air that he had been denied for the long-

_(hours days)_

-minutes. Any attempts of speaking were choked out by his body's attempt to survive. His mind was free to-

_(escape)_

-ponder over what little he had gained in information, leaving the large blanks for his imagination to fill. The possibilities were, of course, endless. In a world where aliens, metahumans, magic, and technology clashed in every type of battle, almost nothing was impossible.

Coughs managed to escape his lips before words could form. They tore down any chance for him to stand upright. There was almost more of a struggle to breathe with the coughing than with the lack of air.

Richard Grayson Wayne spared him a glance. The blue eyes foretold of boredom. It was almost insulting the way the young man looked at Lex as nothing more than a hindrance. The CEO had thought that the world recognized him for the powerful man that he was. The Waynes, out of the many people who knew him, had understood the fear Lex Luthor imposed upon the world.

_(so why?)_

"You-" The single word sent him grasping for more breath. His eyes opened to stare at the tiled floor beneath him. The once pristine tiles were cracked with pressure and blood. He focused on what little wholeness remained as he tried another word. "Wayne-"

"Dead. Just as everyone had said." A chuckle erupted from Wayne. "The method is slightly more questionable, but the news can't get everything right. In fact-"

The black haired man paused midsentence, allowing the sound of footsteps to overtake the room. One set echoed a calmness that spoke of death. Lex's past found the sound to be familiar, pulling out stored memories of the Joker. The other set came down harder on the flooring. It was a struggle for it to not shake the room with power. Yet there was something about it that whispered that it wasn't a blind force of destruction. A sickening sense of the reminder of Superman filled Lex with-

_(die save me die go to Hell save me)_

-mixed emotions.

"Dryad." Wayne nodded to the newcomer. "More business to attend to besides saving your lovely brother?"

"You flatter yourself, Sylph." Timothy Drake Wayne came into view as his softer steps ended. "I will admit that Luthor's presence does repeal away most visitors. Even amongst murderers, there is something… wrong with him."

_(wrong)_

"Still, I suppose that he is good for something. With all of the money that's under his name, you would hope for something." His arms crossed themselves in a manner between annoyance and boredom. A glance spared to the fallen CEO gave Lex a view of the younger Wayne's eyes. They were a lighter shade of blue than Richard Wayne's. It was replaced by a deeper sense of unbalance and insanity. That alone would have set even the Joker off.

_(if still alive)_

It took the man another second for him to register that the other footsteps had ended as well. His head turned upward in an automatic, swift movement. Another pair of blue eyes was casting judgment upon him. Such a thought would have placed a scowl on his lips, but his face was contorted from the need of breath. It, however, did not prevent him from making the connection to his greatest enemy.

"Lex Luthor, I believe you can recognize your own child. Project Krypton, however, is a name that leaves a lot to be desired. I named him Kon instead!" Timothy Wayne's voice had the edge of a child's within the words. The glee was pure from the insanity encased. "It fits him so well, too! Don't you think so?"

"Project Krypton? What the hell kind of name is that?" Richard Wayne shook his head in amusement. "Wow Lex. One disappointment after another. And here I was going to bet that you had one redeeming quality somewhere within you."

The mocking produced a twitch along Lex's right hand. Who had the ability to destroy such a man? His worth went far beyond those of mere everyday mortals who did nothing but cheer the Justice League-

_(pathetic)_

-on. Even the Waynes were small in comparison to him.

"Hey, Kon. Isn't there something that you have to tell your dad? He won't be around much longer as is." Even with the weight of the words, the younger Wayne's voice retained the child-like quality. A part of Lex cringed at what it implied. Hope had long since begun to fade from the CEO. Yet he wasn't ready to accept such a concept. Didn't Superman manage to save lives at the last possible second? Hadn't it happened before? All he had-

"Thank you."

A cough was caught in his throat as he heard the two words. The first thing that Lex registered was the difference from his archenemy. While some of the fault fell to the developed age of the clone-

_(test tube baby_

_your baby)_

-there was something else. It spoke with loneliness and faded anger. It was surprising in many ways. Lex had thought such a fate to be impossible once the Justice League took the boy in. With the honor that followed the superheroes, there was an expectance of "saving" the clone. Wasn't it within their morals to do such a thing?

_(even Batman)_

The meaning of the two words came next. The cough that was lodged within his throat broke up into smaller ones as his mind was sent spiraling. He had been _thanked_. Of all of the things to be expected-

_(hatred)_

-and not expected-

_(love)_

-being thanked was another matter completely. It was a sort of sick validation that Lex had done something right to everyone's eyes but his own. There was no reason for the clone to be thanking him. It didn't make sense.

"How sweet of you, Kon. Remembering a man for the lone right thing that he managed to do by accident rather than the many failures." Timothy Wayne's voice was both fake and genuine. "Maybe we shouldn't just hide the corpse if that's how we're going to remember him. He's much more memorable than Lois Lane."

"I'm already giving him a clean death. Do you really thing he should get more than that?" A smirk graced the elder of the two siblings. Some vague reasoning-

_(desperate)_

-made Lex look for sympathy-

_(of all things)_

-within the blue eyes. There was none. "Then again, we could just figure it out while he's dying. It saves time."

"True. This place is a rather dull setting. Mother has missed you." The words sat softly in the air with only hints of their true meaning accompanying them. Timothy Wayne's face reflected the slight change. It was a short hope for compassion as insanity took control once again. "Will you be killing him?"

"Really? You have to ask that?" Richard Wayne shook his head with amusement in the same manner he had used on television. There was more of a mocking tone to it, however, that seemed to turn him into a completely different man. "Now where were we?"

Lex's throat seized up. There was no air around him.

"Say goodbye, Kon." Timothy Wayne sighed. "I can't say that it'll be worth anything."

"Goodbye." Emotionless eyes blinked at Lex once. The clone then proceeded to turn around and leave. There was no care for the fate he could have easily stopped.

"Well then, Lex. Shall we?" The eldest Wayne smirked.

_(AIR)_

* * *

><p><strong>July 26, 12:29 AM<br>****Central City**

Wally didn't say a word when he had entered his room at his uncle's house. There was nothing he could have said that was needed in the air of the situation. It had been like that for days, numbering towards a full two weeks. They were a long two weeks for the teenager. He had made no form for caring for Independence Day, which had been the introduction of what remained of Batman's family. That time was out of his hands.

Kaldur's disappearance was another matter.

The term that was being used for Wally fell along the lines of "survivor's guilt." He found it somewhat accurate when he allowed himself to think upon the subject. The other heroes had said otherwise. It was almost as if none of them had the ability to understand, both logically and physically. There had been moments where speed would have fixed everything-

_(if only I moved)_

-if given the right timing. Nothing could negate that truth. Logic was already working against it. Time made all of their mistakes permanent. It was a weight that all of the heroes carried when they wished to save a life. There was nothing that could take the pain away if there was a single mistake made.

Wally knew that the others had suffered from it. But even their shared experiences did nothing to help him. They had the experience that would have allowed them to grab Kaldur out of the teleporter. The leader of Young Justice would not have been-

_(abandoned)_

-alone when facing the unknown.

Most of the blame fell upon Roy. In a logical sense, he was the one who started everything. He had physically pushed their leader into the teleporter when he was faced with verbal protest. Despite all they wanted to do to help the League and the emotions that came from it, Kaldur kept his voice of reason. In hindsight it had all made sense. Superboy had betrayed them. M'gann had lied to them and could have possibly been part of a bigger threat. Even past the betrayals, there was the sudden loss of force. Any one of those things should have screamed caution to them all.

His room was loud in a sense that almost every teenage boy was able to capture. Bold statements aligned his walls in between posters, merging with a coat of paint that was barely a year old. The floor, while littered with untidy piles, was visible. The carpeting was not the most attractive color that he had ever seen. It had done its job, however. At one glance, Wally could see many of his science books scattered around the room. There was an evident concentration of physics and chemistry. Biology-

_(Kaldur never asked why didn't I)_

_-_ was severely lacking.

His thoughts wandered back to his teammates. He wasn't sure-

_(really my teammates anymore)_

-of what to think about the situation. The principle of what the group was supposed to be was long lost to their petty fighting. At the time they had saw their differences. It was such a dividing factor amongst them that their missions would turn into disasters. Their mentors hoped that such difficulties would be set aside. They lost that hope when January turned into February. Then March. Things just never clicked with the team.

The closest that they had to a moment of bonding had been the Fourth of July. That was their last chance. Squandering it was mutually agreed to be a waste. Subconsciously, they had worked to get along for that particular day. Maybe the final product would have worked out. Maybe not. Such an answer didn't matter to them now.

The betrayals still stung with a great bite. They had betrayed an ideal more than their teammates. Wally thought that such a thing was the most hurtful of it all. It was such a naïve thought to believe that every hero was an upstanding citizen who followed the rules so closely. But the ideal was what they followed. They had all committed themselves to such a thing, and to betray it was worse than anything else he had thought of was possible. It was not one person who suffered, but many.

_(but both understandable)_

Wally tried to close off that part of his mind. He hated listening to such logic. Any truth within its words just cut into him deeper than the lies had. It was an addicting source, but an overdose sent one to insanity. It just wasn't worth it.

_(yet right)_

The sunlight glared at him from the window. The warmth was of slight comfort, but otherwise unwanted. It also graced his bookshelf with a blinding, brilliant shade of colors. It reflected book titles glossed over by publishers while falling into paper bends of unconditional love.

_(unlike Roy)_

The wood stood out from the brightening, more for outshining than protest. And then there was the golden helmet. It was pretending to be a mirror within the light, gleaming a tinted shape and shade of the world. Wally could see a twisted version of his room within the curved surface. Somehow it still maintained a warm glow that reminded him of day where a blanket could keep out the bad storms. Everything looked peaceful in the reflection. It sickened him.

The Helmet of Fate was not an unpleasant thing to look at. The metallic gleam was not different from many other items within the house. The issue was the sense of unease that radiated off it, whether it was entangled within the light that reflected off of the surface or surrounded by some unknown darkness. Wally couldn't tell if it was from his past experience or just-

_(magic)_

-a sense that one metahuman had for the unnatural. It would be a lie to himself if he believed the latter. It didn't stop him from wishing, however.

_(such a monster)_

"What?" The voice in his head was unlike Nymph's-

_(Barbara Gordon such a monster)_

-soothing words of lies that controlled them. It was unnatural, even beyond the realm of imagination that waited for him within dreams and nightmares. There was a feminine tone to the overall pitch. There was age interlaced within that spoke of wisdom beyond human comparison rather than physical age. Beyond the fact that he had heard it within his mind, there was something that struck him as unusual about it.

The ticking of the clock that sat on his bureau seemed slower than usual as it hashed out the time. Anticipation mocked what was wasted in waiting. But he didn't care. His brain tried to grasp the moment, not trusting the recall of memories to be exact. But it was all he had left. Nothing else came afterwards to confirm the voice.

A breath of air escaped his mouth hesitantly. Questions began to arise from the bog of confusion, bubbling out with a thick liquid making the film. They came and went as others filled their place, only to return with persistence. It should have been maddening. To a certain level, it was.

_(lies tricks)_

There was only one conclusion that Wally could draw up. It should have eased his conscience with such a straightforward, logical conclusion. The solution made simple sense of his world. There were other possibilities, but none of them fit so well. It was as if they were made to fit together in such a way. Despite all of the other possible explanations that existed in sheer numbers, he found that the lone one worked best.

It was a lie. A dull lie, but a comforting one nonetheless.

His eyes, which had closed without his conscience awareness, slipped open. The emerald irises fell upon his desk. Like the rest of his room, there was a scattering of items in somewhat neat piles of order. There was more of a population of paper than books resting there. Once in a while, his eye would be attracted to a writing utensil of some sort that he had forgotten to place back into the cup with the others.

_(wonder what it's like_

_love note)_

Wally tried to banish the thought before it took a more dangerous form. But it was too late, the feeling entrapping what control he had. A tear bit the corner of his left eye before another could get the edge of his right. They both came down worn paths, eventually following his jaw and meeting at the tip. The tears stained his jeans.

Unconsciously, he knew-

_(door closed locked_

_no one here_

_Uncle doing League business)_

-that he was safe to let his emotions show. He had been hiding them for days on end, waiting for each second to slip by. Every moment distanced him from the lone thing that brought him down even farther than Kaldur's disappearance had. The time was supposed to heal him, and instead it was only trying to dull the pain. It wasn't helpful in the slightest.

The logical part of him had already explained the event. There was no room for arguing that expected truth, even amongst the liars that rested within him. It did not prevent his heart for imagining scenarios to fill his own dreams with something better than nightmares. Instead, it took a sadistic joy in crushing his imagination. It left him with a sense of unwavering pain.

He could never doubt his eyes, though. His eyes had brought him the heart-wrenching truth with the sight of Roy with Cheshire. The hot breaths and warm touches spoke of something separate from the lust Wally was used to seeing. The passion, as well, explained the word "Jade" that fell from Roy's lips every once in a while.

Logic told Wally that, in some ways, he was just another body to get through the day where Roy was concerned. It was only his heart that had allowed him to believe in love.

* * *

><p><strong>July 30, 9:28 PM<br>****Gotham City**

_(so much pain_

_death_

_children_

_too late)_

"It will be done." Sylph's voice echoed within the cave. "Do not worry over such trivial things. This time we will not lose."

There was nothing that answered him back as he eyed the darkness below him. The cliff formation that he stood upon was barely able to hold his weight. It was latched on to part of the caverns that made up his current residence, shadows clinging to it in turn. It was a balanced relationship with the existence of the surroundings. None of it was as delicate as the physical state it was in. Such a small meaning made all the difference to him.

The leap Sylph took was made from experience. Heights and the unknown gave him a rush of adrenaline that had sculpted away at his being for years and years, yet not a trace of fear followed. It gave him an immunity to the horrors of the dark world he had found himself a part of since-

_(birth parents dead gone blood)_

-the fateful day within the circus. He had seen it once in his brothers' eyes the stress that it took to overcome an inborn fear. But he had already been immune when he started. There was nothing for him to fight off. The human Sylph was before death belonged within the air that he could get when jumping and falling. What remained of the human was easily a part of that world without a thought.

He was freefalling within the darkness. The wind rushed with a sense of harshness the darkness gave it in association. It was not meant to be that way by nature, yet there was something even embedded into the city that rested upon it that made it sinister. He understood that in the highest regard. It was easier to do that rather than fight it.

His body began to turn right before he hit the ground. It was an easy trick that he had used over and over when he was a younger-

_(alive)_

-person. It was within his structure of existence to perform such a maneuver with practiced ease.

He landed on his feet in a harsh pound against the stone. The echoing noise that was given birth to filled the caverns before dying. Yet not a part of his body ached with the sudden force of hitting the ground, his bones staying in their original shape. There was a lack of motion that seemed to have enveloped him more than the jump had.

_(boring)_

"What's wrong?" Pyroead's words were soft within the air. His voice, however, maintained the harshness that was always imbedded within the younger of the couple. It was a strange combination that had given itself a special flavor by having the delicate balance. It was one of the things that Sylph appreciated in a world that he had grown to hate.

"Don't you think that we lost something when we died the first time?" Sylph asked. The question echoed with a silent force, dimming what little his eyes could see in the darkness. "Death is nothing to us now. It makes things…"

"Boring, I know."

_(you always do)_

Pyroead sighed before raking his hair with his fingers. There was a flow to the gesture that was rigid in some sense of the definition. "This is our revenge for what we lost. They don't realize that."

"We've lost so much." The words from the elder of the two slipped out softly. His own voice was steady with them, knowing that it had once trembled at the thought of how much was simply gone. "I wish they could realize what they have done. If only-"

"We can't."

"I know."

"But we can certainly try." Pyroead folded his arms. "This is worse than what we had to suffer. Hell, both of us were asleep most of the time. Sleep is _nothing_ in comparison to what they'll deal with."

Sylph tilted his head in agreement, but paused before the action was complete. He wasn't sure-

_(why)_

-what brought about the action. It took little time for his mind to provide the answer. "But the others suffered worse. Why else are they insane?"

The question sat in the air with a form of-

_(confusion pain wonder sting failure)_

-darkness that had defined all of their lives. Both had known since their awakenings that something had touched the rest of the family and brought them to the edge. Nights had been spent with Siren-

_(should have been a sweet girl_

_at least a girl)_

-listing and imagining horrors beyond their own. The logic had told them that it was with only a few conditions that would have torn out sanity with claws and keep it out of reach for the trio that had escaped.

_(escape not the right word)_

"They're getting better." Pyroead's words had brought a dull edge to his voice, unable to bring the compassion that others could find with ease. The situation was enough to alter him, but could do nothing else to the set structure that was burned into his existence. "We can hope for more."

"Hope? What good is that?" The words were spat out before Sylph could stop himself. There was a hint of his lover's anger within himself, bubbling in the presence of the original. "Aren't we becoming insane too? What good will it do-"

"Enjoying death is different from insanity!" A burst of rage filled the air between them, the cave echoing the yell. "You might not get it yet, but it's different! Insanity is what they have. What we have is vengeance."

"And where does that end?" His voice was already feeling hoarse under the weight of his own questions. It was as if his body was protesting against contemplating such an idea.

"I don't know!" The idea somehow brought them both down from the rage, claiming them with warm arms. It ripped against Sylph's heart. Memories of the woman that he had called "Mom" with a rightful sense came bubbling with him.

_(then Gotham)_

"Sorry," Pyroead muttered.

"It's fine."

The rest of their night had no words. Their path, however, filled the cave with what escaped each of their minds. It was a painful existence to allow themselves to fall prey to what awaited them. Sylph knew it too well, watching his memories bring Lex Luthor back only to have him die over and over. A metallic taste filled his mouth with a gleeful tint for the illusion.

Sylph could not say that he disagreed with Pyroead's idea. His mind found more comfort in the idea that he could accept killing rather than going insane.

* * *

><p><strong>August 2, 8:54 PM<br>****Star City**

It was not love anymore. She did not know what to call it, but she knew enough to call it something other than love.

_(impossible to love)_

There was blood spilling out of the wound, drenching her clothing. What was once a brilliant shade of green was twisted into a dark crimson. It was almost as if her clothing had no say in what color would appear upon her at the moment. She shouldn't have cared so much about such a thing, but there was so little else she could do.

_(such a stupid cat I am)_

Jade's eyes fluttered closed once-

_(Lian)_

-only to be opened by shock her mind had sent her. It quickly pulled at memories of the baby, flashing one after another until it sent adrenaline coursing through her body to keep her alive for long enough. There was a form of knowledge within her that whispered her death with a thundering voice. But it mattered little. She could find ironic comfort there, lying on the dark carpet of the apartment and knowing that she was dead by the hands of who she had thought of as a lover. There was no shame to admitting that the fault was her own in that regard. But to be left with the thought of her child suffering the same fate as her was almost unimaginable.

"Roy! What the fuck?" The voice of the-

_(other lover)_

-teenage boy filled the shallow hallways and deep shadows that made up the living space. She could hear the innocence in his voice, announcing it to those who understood. Even the taint of Roy's false love did nothing to destroy the type of innocence that came off of the words.

Roy's response was an opposite of the teenager's question in many ways. There was a detachment within the words that distanced the young man from what he once was. "Wally, just leave-"

"No! Ch-" The word seemed to lodge itself in-

_(name Wallace Wally)_

-the speedster's throat. He stuttered through the word, only to pause and try to collect his thoughts. "Cheshire doesn't deserve to die. Why the hell did you-"

"She's-"

"A human!"

_(defending me such a fool)_

The words forced the space to pause and allow each of them to go through their own thoughts. Jade's mind kept upon the fact that her child was in danger by-

_(father)_

-Roy's presence. There was nothing that she could find to explain away the erratic behavior with a gentle sweep of lies. All that she had were the basic forms of the truth that was too known to the likes of her. Men of higher status had fallen in the way of drugs and power with alarming speed. Roy wouldn't have been that hard of a catch with his own ideas of how things should have played out in the world.

"You know that there's a reason for why we don't kill them!" Wally protested. "Sh- shit! Why did you kill the phone? My cell-"

"The bitch deserves it!" She didn't know that the words would have had such an effect on her, but her fragile state gave her an unmasked reaction. A tear stained a corner of one of her eyes. She could feel another one starting to form in the other before she managed to blink them away. Roy's words continued to pierce her. "She got in the way!"

"Of what? Roy, I-"

A pause filled the air, saturated with the cries of innocence. It was jagged against Jade's ears. Her hand instantly tried to fight against gravity as instincts opened her eyes wide. Gravity won, playing upon her stolen strength and pulling more blood out of her body. A hope slipped out of her confusion and into what few tears managed to escape.

_(Wally would care)_

"…did you just kill a mother?"

Her lips twisted into a crooked smirk, marred only slightly by the pain. The words gave her the comfort she needed about her child's future as well as the sense that Roy would get justice.

_(justice huh)_

"You know he won't survive against Roy by himself." Dick Grayson Wayne's voice floated over her, almost escaping her notice. Such an idea should have sent more adrenaline pumping through her veins, which in turn would have given her more energy to delay the inevitable. But things had already played themselves against her. Fighting it just wasn't within her capabilities or her wishes.

Jade nodded her head slightly, allowing the pull of gravity to direct her movements. False hope had already played amongst her emotions with such ease before the arrow took her life. She knew that the thoughts just preceding the current ones fell upon a reliance of hope that she had been warned against in her training.

"Roy's never been a… sane one." Her eyes closed with little warning. The darkness that immersed her had an odd sort of comfort.

_(death peaceful if I'd known)_

She could sense how the words felt like cinder blocks. He continued anyways, as if such an action would erase the moment. "We're not going to let him die yet. You know how useless some people are in death."

_(me)_

"Don't think that. And don't play me, Jade. I know how you think." There was a pause. A warm hand took in her drenched one, enveloping it. "You're death means that you'll finally rest. Leave it to me, 'kay?"

Jade could hear the-

_(death)_

-promise being made within the words. She knew that Dick would keep his promise without much prompting. There was a link between the trio of the victims that Roy had created. It was becoming a matter of who could do what. The teenager was inexperienced and blinded by the sense of justice that the Justice League placed within him. Dick, however, had obviously touched the darker side that she had been so fond of. Her imagination gave her a brief glimpse of the destruction that would play out at his hands before disappearing to death.

The grin untwisted itself to allow her mouth to choke out a finally name. "Lian."

"Pretty name."

_(sorry Artemis_

_only thing left to do_

_die)_

* * *

><p><strong>October 30, 9:43 PM<br>****Gotham City**

_He could feel the hands around his throat, choking what little air that remained in his lungs out. The cord that tied his hands together behind his back continued to bite into his exposed skin. It was a cruel reminder that he was still conscious of the world around him._

(should have killed him)

_The thoughts in his head were of little comfort. It did not matter that the thoughts were-_

(wrong evil right wrong justice)

_-dark. It was the truth that whispered against his senses, telling him that he could have gotten revenge all along. Saving his own life from the clutches of the man was only a bonus to avenging his parents._

_Richard "Dick" Grayson Wayne stared Zucco down from behind the white lenses of his mask. The pure hatred could be felt despite the shield that stood between them. Neither made a comment of the fact. Instead, Nightwing's body pulled for the air he was being denied while Zucco kept both of his hands tightly clamped around the vigilante's throat._

(only death can't be too bad parents)

_Dick could feel his eyes begin to slip close at the thought._

(Justice League could they evil)

_Somewhere within his wishes to be in a warm embrace of his lover, another part was screaming for him to remember the relevant facts of his death. There was a central cause that would kill his family that night. Even Batman did not know of its presence within the bounds of the city. Such knowledge might have meant escape for the family._

(why I'm dying first)

_What little resistance that existed in his mind was already drained. He knew that, to a great extent, that there were some things in the world that he would be useless fighting against. Fate was one of these things._

_Nightwing allowed his eyes to slip close behind his mask. Death seemed like a better comfort than it had ever been while he was alive. Betrayal was not something he could imagine in whatever laid behind death._

(nothing left to do but die)

* * *

><p><strong>August 3, 12:11 AM<br>****Star City**

Wally closed his eyes slowly before reopening them in the same careful manner. He could still see the corpse lying atop of the pile of logs and twigs, blood drying against the cool skin. The woman's hair was tangled, hidden by her head. Her lips were parted open slightly. Above the red painted lips, her eyes were closed. There was sleep within the posture of her face.

_(but dead)_

He shut his eyes again.

"Jade was always an interesting person. Never thought that she would fall for Roy, though. The guy can be quite a monster with others' emotions." The voice floated through the air with a hint of the death that lied behind it. It was almost natural for the voice to have such a quality. It was a cold comfort to Wally to delude himself with the idea that the other-

_(Richard Grayson Wayne monster Dick dead Nightwing why)_

-understood what was going on. Despite the horrors that Kid Flash had seen as a hero of his age, he had yet to find himself next to death. It was almost mythic in the way that he was near such possibilities.

"First time with the dead?" Dick asked. There was nothing in the words to suggest any sort of mocking. That in itself was unsettling.

_(enemy right?)_

"I think my first big time was my parents being killed. It was in the middle of the act too. One moment they were the Flying Graysons, showing off to the world that gravity meant nothing to them. They were about to show me to the world, too."

The motion of opening his emerald eyes and turning to face the taller of the duo came at once to Wally's sense. He could see the young man's eyes staring at the corpse, yet not quite looking at it. The glassy cover was filled with memories from another time. The words came in the same manner. "And then they're dead."

Wally's mouth opened with words of condolence upon his tongue. There was something that compelled him to give his sympathies, even if Dick was on the other side of the fight. Such moments were not made to be mocked at. They instead pushed against the conventions that Wally had lived with.

But the words were stuck in his throat, clinging against the walls in an effort to stay within. It was unusual to suffer such a condition when it had only been preceded by moments of awkwardness. Sympathy should have given the voice strength. Rather, it did nothing in the face of the unknown force that kept his words from the air.

Dick continued on as if there was nothing that needed to be said about his blunt fact. "It just got worse when I was Robin. Gotham… She's such a dark place sometimes, you know? Everyone's scared of the dark corners because we don't know what the madness will compel people to do. Hell, it dresses a billionaire in a bat costume to save others! But really… it's all we have.

"I hated the thought of death back then. It just seemed so final. Even after being a vigilante for so long and seeing what lies after death… Always hated it. It just never sat right with me. But right before I died I was forced to realize that there was something worse than death." The black haired man inclined his head slightly, letting the light sapphires meet the emeralds for a second. It should have seemed like a small motion to Wally. Yet there was something-

_(hatred love anger hurt)_

-that passed between them that was too real for a logical explanation to whisk away.

A question found its way to Wally's mouth, bypassing the words he felt that he should have said. "What's that?"

There was not an immediate answer. Instead, Dick turned his head back to the corpse that was resting upon the pile of wood. "We'll take the child for now. You don't want to know what the League could do if they fall into their prejudgments again."

"And… Roy?"

"I allowed him to escape for a reason. Like I said, there are worse things than death out there." A light toss sent an object towards the speedster. His hands instantly went up to grab the object, marveling at his own speed that threw away his caution. The book of matches lay plainly against his palm. "Jade never really liked the idea of being buried after death. Something about taking up space."

_(walking away)_

"W- Wait!" The word stumbled out of his mouth, followed by a string of others. "What about Roy? What are you going to do? Why- Why didn't you kill me?"

A chuckle escaped from Dick's lips. "We all suffered through Roy. Think of it as empathy towards each other."

_(empathy)_

"That also means we have to avenge Jade over there." A jerk of the head motioned to the corpse. Wally allowed himself a brief look before his eyes forced themselves shut. He turned his head back to Dick. "Never got to tell her my new codename, either. Ah well. If anyone asks about the bonfire, just tell them it was Sylph."

_(lost him too insanity why no sense)_

There was never enough time for Wally to form a question. The first Robin was gone without so much of a farewell, fading into the air.

The lone teenager looked back at the pile. The corpse was still there, mocking his hopes of being in the realm of dreams. The memories that he was left with from the previous hours were more of an illusion than the moment. They floated in and out of his conscience with no order or understanding. It was trying to watch the recall play itself out, taking hints here and there about what had occurred. He can remember a baby amongst them, wailing out against the harsh suffering. If Wally had to throw a guess, he would have said she was barely a month old.

Another memory came by without warning. Dick-

_(Sylph)_

-had the child in his arms in a calm embrace, ignoring the mess compiling itself around him. The baby was content with her placement in the other's arms. She was ignorant of the battle around her.

_(ignorant)_

There was nothing within the memories that could pinpoint Roy. Part of him rejected the idea of searching for the one who destroyed his concept of love. The older redhead had used his body for pleasure and careless stress relief. If there had been anything beyond that, it was from Wally's side alone.

"Oh, fuck it."

At rapid speed, he opened the book of matches, pulled out a lone matchstick, and lit it up. The flame danced on the small end of the stick it was confided to. For a moment, it seemed to mock him with its power. There was destruction woven into the flicker as it bit into the air, leaving a smoky smell behind. If there had been any visible smoke from the small flame he was unable to see it in the night atmosphere.

Wally tossed the match onto the pile of wood. Once the flame passed itself onto the bigger source of fuel, he ran.

_(so this is death)_

* * *

><p><strong>August 10, 11:49 AM<br>****Washington DC**

There was something static sitting in the room. It was an uncomfortable force that polluted the air with something that J'onn couldn't identify. There was a distinct human feel to it, but it extended to a point where it went beyond that nature. Even metahumans failed to compare with the force.

_(pure will)_

"I do not like this," he said. His voice remained stoic as it usually was during such matters. He allowed the words to explain his thoughts for him as they were supposed to. It didn't ease the tension that sat in the back of his throat, however. There had simply been too much of it to melt away with simple words. The accumulation of events that had dismantled Young Justice to only two members had been a strain to them all. It was M'gann's betrayal that stung J'onn the most.

_(Jason was right)_

Kal-El stood beside him. J'onn could see how the features of the Kryptonian were sculpted out by the pure experience of fighting crime. There was nothing else that Superman could do about such a thing except let it happen. It did not make him ugly to the world, but it did make him dangerous. There was some kind of horror within the harsh beauty.

_(what about Bruce?)_

"Neither do I, J'onn." The response was resigned. It gave the room the idea that Kal did not want to do this himself. He was only an innocent bystander to a twisted game, making choices that men do not want to make. It was pathetic in some ways. People could not help but to look at the superheroes as supreme beings of justice. They did not see the decisions that they had to make.

"Then why are we doing this? We do not need him-"

"But we _do._ You saw how easily they were able to break in this time, J'onn. Nothing is going to stop them from doing it again."

The memory brought back ideas of the pure power that their new enemies possessed. There was a clear distinction in power levels of the past and present. It was not a spike that could be explained away with words of choice and faked ignorance. If anything, the Bat family had grown stronger in their forced retreat.

"Awakening him will not guarantee success." There was an underlying statement within his words. He did not want to read the other's mind to see if he understood the message, but something wanted him to. There was no guarantee that the other understood.

_(forgotten)_

"We can't go wrong with this." The words were too confident, managing to attack the unsaid statement without much trouble. "We need him too. You know how hard it's been the last few months without his mind on our side."

"That does not justify anything."

"Tell that to Diana. Tell that to Odin. Tell that to Selina." The tone had turned into the steel exterior that Kal used towards their enemies. It dared anyone to question him while managing to win whatever argument it was against at the same time. "They're on the brink of death, J'onn. We have to end this before some actually dies."

_(already been deaths)_

"They are careful with their killings. They want revenge out of everything."

"We have to stop them."

"If his will for revenge is strong enough, I cannot guarantee that he will not remember."

"He won't. His sense of justice will go through."

The Green Martian turned his head away from the Kryptonian and back to the casket-like structure that stood before them both. He could easily recall the moment Kal had come to him with the idea to withhold the one corpse from the rest of the shipment. J'onn did not help in order to just humor the man. He had hoped for a cure to save a man that was too great for the world. It had been almost too great of a bearing to deal with his corruption after death. If anything, J'onn wanted-

_(redemption)_

-to save the man.

_(sent him to death)_

He closed his eyes and felt out the mind of the corpse in front of him. It was faint, only surviving by whatever forces that allowed it to exist beyond the grave. Emotions and memories swirled before the Martian with hints of thought. They were all rugged with sharp edges, yet threated to collapse with a single touch. J'onn sunk deeper into the mind, enjoying the structure. It was the man he had grown close to and admired for his characteristics.

_(will solve nothing destroy this man_

_what other option is there?)_

He then set to work of stealing away memories from Bruce Wayne, a bitter feeling accompanying him all the way.

* * *

><p><strong>And that's chapter 5. Two things, really quick: 1) Artemis and Cheshire being sisters? Will totally matter later on (hopefully). 2) I'm going back to the previous chapters and editting mistakestypos/small wording in general. No biggie, but just warning you.**

**Also, next chapter? Let's say hi to Daddy Bats!**


	6. Lampads Part I

**Hey everyone! Guess what? It's another chapter!**

**...well, kinda. This, my friends, is only the first part of the Lampads chapter. I know, right? This is about the same length as all the other chapters! What makes Lampads special is that there's a lot of stuff going on for him. So... 2-part chapter. Yay! The second half will be posted... when I actually finish writing it. Yeah...**

**As usual, I still don't own Young Justice.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p><strong>August 11, 12:42 PM<br>****Central City**

There was something in the air that clung to Wally with a sort of uneasiness. It was quite different than the dull pain that accompanied him since he ran from the bonfire, which had taken to spike his mind with aches from time to time. The unease was not his fault. The feeling had slipped in silently sometime during his lunch and found its way to his stomach.

_(not guilt)_

He didn't know if there was school that day or not. He could not bring himself to care at the moment, favoring the presence of his room to the alien hallways that littered the school building. Rather than comfort, he found familiarity within the four walls of his room that helped him stay away from the world. There wasn't much more he could want with his current frame of mind.

The ideas that sat against his mind were not there as a comfort; instead, it was a necessity in the hopes of surviving the impending conflict. There was no use in pretending that there was no one waiting for the Justice League in the shadows. The League had done something to warrant the rage of their former allies, bringing them from beyond the grave to exact revenge. The League could pretend that no such thing ever happened for as long as they wanted. It meant nothing.

_(like what I meant to Roy)_

The ginger's fists clenched before the thought could finish running through his head. Roy had disappeared after his encounter with Sylph-

_(his name Dick_

_not anymore)_

-leaving no trace for the League to work with that would bring him back. Green Arrow had loudly voiced what little care he had for the disappearance of his ward, claiming that the act had been carried out several times since the breakup. He could not sense what was wrong with the older teenager. Maybe the change happened too gradually for Oliver Queen to notice.

The child-

_(gone disappeared ever existed?)_

-could not have been more than a month or two old, placing the possible conception time to months before Young Justice was brought together. It had all happened before the crack in the relationship between the two heroes came about.

_(what else Roy hiding?)_

"If only…" The statement slipped out of his mouth with little care, crashing to the ground in a way that made him cringe. The two words made up a common phrase that floated amongst heroes who wondered if they could have save the few lives they failed. Logic would have told them the amount they saved should be more than enough to satisfy the quota. Their hearts, however, always howled with pain for the few that did slip away into the hands of death.

The teenager found himself empathizing with them more and more on that particular matter. Each of the members of the young group had slipped away, whether it was by their own choice or fate's-

_(playing a game us pawns)_

-hand. The method did not change the resulting madness that ate away the back of the teenager's mind. It had questioned his actions with no care for whatever feelings it trampled upon in the search. It only wanted the answers. Wally wasn't sure what answers would give him beyond guilt, but allowed that part of his mind to run free. There was nothing else that would sit with him without drowning him in a wave of self-inflicted nausea.

The warmth of the day escaped past the closed shutters and into his room. The room had not yet become unbearable with the temperature, although there was no doubt to the speedster that he would stay even if it began to become uncomfortable. The world had managed to isolate him to the small comfort that he could find in his room. It should have been intolerable for a teenager like him to be trapped in such a way. But he stayed within the confines without an extra word.

"Wally?" Barry Allen's voice tried to pierce the silence that that retaken the space. It did nothing to the already present mood, instead appearing awkward besides it. "Hey, you still alive?"

A groan escaped Wally's throat before he was able to prevent it. The need to admit to being-

_(here not trapped traitor)_

-alive was becoming a way for him to confirm his existence. It was little comfort to know that he existed in a world that led him to being partly at fault for the madness that was going on.

"Wally, you have to stop acting like this. Your aunt's getting worried, and you know what happens to me if she starts worrying." The words did not draw the teenager out from under the blankets of his bed. Paranoia and replayed memories had taught the redhead about the cheapness of words while, at the same time, reminding him that he had nothing else to go on.

"Besides, there's someone at the base who wants- well, more like demands- to talk to you." Barry sounded slightly exasperated as the words came out of his mouth. It brought curiosity out of the teenager's fear, pulling his head out of the security of the blanket. "There we go! But can you speed it up a bit? Bats can get-"

"Bats?" Wally's voice sounded hoarse from the lack of use. Suddenly he wished he had taken a glass of water back to his room when he snuck into the kitchen for food.

"Yeah. You know. Batman."

* * *

><p><strong>August 11, 1:26 PM<br>****Gotham City**

It was home. There was way for the idea to be strange in her mind. Gotham had become her home through the series of events that lefts scars in most of the trapped minds that lived there. She had seen the dark beauty that the city had to offer. It was a mesmerizing pull that had no meaning to those who felt themselves being kept in the city.

The elderly man besides her made no changes to his expression to reveal his own thoughts. There was something in his aura, however, that spoke loud enough for her. "I hope the manor is not in shambles. I did make sure to hire cleaners to watch over it while-"

"It is fine." The words came from her mouth as an automatic response to the man's worries rather than from knowledge. She did not believe that Wayne Manor could have brought itself to ruins. There was something about the large building-

_(Batcave under it)_

-that spoke of timeless and permanent residence. Somehow she had joined it in existence. It was an interesting thing.

The man paused before straightening himself up. "Well, it will be nice to see it again." He paused, considering his next words behind his tired eyes. "I wish I could have helped Master Bruce more than I did."

"You will help him by doing this." A small smile graced her lips.

The man sighed softly, looking out of the large windows of the building. The airport was not unlike the ones that the girl had gone through during her travels and moving. There were some shops and cafés that littered the area with their goods. The staff smiled at them with something that was forced. If it wasn't for the fact that it was placed within Gotham, she would have found it dull.

"Miss Cassandra, is there anything that you want to get before-"

"It's…" She paused for a second. While words were not as elusive to her as they once were, there were times where her vocabulary failed to supply her with the right things. "…fine."

_(my siblings)_

* * *

><p><strong>August 11, 2:14 PM<br>****Watchtower**

_(memories_

_missing ever there?_

_don't understand)_

He closed his eyes again. The sudden awakening to the world was taking all of his willpower to handle. It was an overflow of information, each demanding his careful attention and to be stored away in the recesses of his mind. He could not deny the pieces the chance to be stored away. It was life and death.

_(but I'm dead already)_

Bruce Wayne opened his eyes again. There was no cowl to block away any part of the word, no white lenses that kept his confusion to himself. There was no filter waiting to help him as he readjusted. And, of course, there were no memories for him to call on.

His head turned to look at the bed besides him. The image of Selina Kyle resting in the infirmary section of the Justice League's base no longer startled him. The implications, less so. No one had bothered to explain her presence, leaving the inventions of Bruce's mind to answer. There was no issue with guessing why the others had accepted her: she had a good heart. The chances of her joining the Justice League in what she believed to be a way to honor Bruce were not as small as many believed.

It was the way she laid there that worried the man. Many would have easily mistaken the posture as one of peaceful sleep that had overtaken her after battle. But there was something about it that screamed of death. The machines that surrounded her recorded a heartbeat that had managed to keep steady, but having nothing of true life.

Bruce looked at his own machine. There were no attempts made at keeping a pulse check as he had no pulse. He had checked himself after blaming the others for their lack of knowledge, only to find out that the jab was his own attempts at keeping calm. There was nothing beating under his skin. He had officially crossed the line of being an ordinary human, a title that he could not help but secretly enjoy. It was an unpleasant feeling of not knowing what was keeping him "alive."

The doors to the infirmary slipped open, giving Bruce a glimpse of the hallway outside room. The metallic walls had told him what he had already known: the League had placed him in the Watchtower. It was only after taking less than a second to process these facts that he recognized the people: Barry Allen in his Flash suit and his nephew, Wallace West, dressed in what the two had deemed as the "Kid Flash" costume. Out of habit, Bruce frowned at their appearance.

"Allen-"

"Can it, Bruce. Your identity doesn't matter." It took Allen a visible second to realize the implications of his words. His hand shot out to scratch the back of his head, a gesture of nervousness that he had picked up somewhere along the lines. "We can't really explain Bruce Wayne coming back to life. Batman is a hero, so-"

"I get the point." Bruce's blue eyes shifted to the younger speedster. The boy's brilliant green eyes were downcast, avoiding the temptation of seeing a man from the dead alive and well. They were scarred with something else that sapped the joy out of his existence. There was life, but it was a hollow comparison to what it should have been for someone his age. "What's wrong with him?"

Barry opened his mouth to speak, but then shut it. It took another moment for him to begin speaking. "No idea. He's worrying Iris sick, too. Wally just… won't talk."

_(like Barbara Dick Jason Tim Artemis Cassandra_

_Barbara Dick Jason Tim Artemis Cassandra_

_BARBARA DICK JASON TIM ARTEMIS CASSANDRA)_

The names brought a sudden onslaught of pain to his head. The only show that Bruce made of it was bringing a hand to his temple.

_(guess who's missing Brucie?)_

The last voice had a Joker-like quality to it.

Part of Bruce wanted to give the teenager one of his famous glares, but he could not bring himself to do it. The kid was fragile. What was worse, he reminded Bruce of his own children. Instead, the man growled out, "Shouldn't you be doing something else about the kid, Allen?"

"The thing is-"

"Your kids are going after us."

The words took over a second to digest. It was followed by questions that filled Bruce's head, attacking every word and idea that the boy had said. His own limited memories began to question themselves, looking for a single answer. When there was none, the questions spilled out of his mouth with a single word. "What?"

"They… They blame the League for something that happened to them. Something… about their deaths. And the way that they're going to get back at them is by taking us." The words started to come out of his mouth faster and faster. It wasn't his powers that were helping, but sheer emotion. "And they already had Connor, which is unfair because he hasn't even been alive that long, and then M'gann, who just betrayed us because- well, we don't really know but it might have to do with the fact that she's a White Martian, and then Kaldur and IcouldhavestoppeditbutIdidn'tandRoy-"

"Stop it." The growl halted the rest of the words from the teenager's mouth. "You're not going to help them if all you do is babble and sulk. If your teammates need you, you would be a useless sitting duck."

"Bruce-"

Barry's words had no effect. Bruce's glare had hardened, staring down the kid until he understood that there was no game involved in the matter. "I don't care if you don't understand or use to be friends with some of them. Your teammates need you? You step up or let them _fucking die."_

The words were created out of a mix of experience and emotion. He wasn't sure how much the teenager would understand, but he was surprised. He received a nod, the eyes suddenly breaking away from the hollow gaze to one filled of determination. Bruce was sure that even Clark had never reached the same point that Wallace did.

The hollow look returned a second later.

"But they're your children."

A pause filled the room with an impenetrable silence, leaving enough room for Bruce's thoughts to escape. There were more questions waiting for him with the thoughts that came. His own past words were tough upon their fates. What difference should it have made, between a teammate and a child, of letting them go for the greater good?

_(you know the answer)_

There was a truth imbedded within the whispered words of his head. He knew what the difference between the two were, as if it were the difference between night and day. Not only did Batman trust his sidekicks more, but he loved them with something that no one else could have. It was the simple fact that they were his children and not just a teammate. Bruce could have lost sleep with losing his teammate in order to save the larger population. Something would have died within him, but he would still don the cowl for the night. He would die almost completely if he had lost one of his children in the same manner.

"Going to retrieve your teammates will not harm them unless they are physically attached and dependent on my children's existence." Each word came out hashed, his voice dropping to the deep tones that made up the Dark Knight of Gotham. "I doubt that is the case."

The worry did not disappear from the brilliant green eyes. The boy did not utter a word against Bruce, but his eyes manage to fight off the-

_(bullshit)_

-reason with little trouble.

"Those are not my children." The words came out even, softer than their predecessors. There was no struggle to keep any anger out of his voice. The sorrow, however, was another case entirely. "My children believed in justice. Those… monsters have taken their form."

"But you were like them! The League was able to cure-" The last word hung in the air. Bruce was sure that the teenager knew nothing of the process that the League went through to save him from whatever had overtaken him. Yet, somehow, the redhead was able to make the word sound-

_(wrong)_

-misused.

"I've talked to the others about it. They told me I was lucky. The chances of saving any of them are infinitesimally small." Without any conscience thought, his voice grew louder with each syllable.

"Why won't you take the chance? You're the goddam Batman!" With a quickness that had to have been relying on his powers, Wallace left the room.

Barry's apologies never reached Bruce. A hardened gaze remained on the door, a hint of the image of the teenager remaining in the mind. There was something in the words that had awoken part of him that he could remember, but not well. It was a faded memory that remained out of grasp, yet it existed in a more definite presence than the missing memories.

_(why indeed)_

* * *

><p><strong>August 15, 6:29 AM<br>****Gotham City**

"Cass-" The name tasted the air for a moment while the rest of the words withdrew into his throat. Dryad paused, his face contorting to fit his confusion. There was nothing directly wrong with finding the girl within the caverns that ran under Gotham. She belonged there as much as they did. It did not mean that she should be there, though.

"I wanted to see Gotham…" It was clear in her eyes that the next words were a struggle to find. Some would have blamed the lack of education from her father. Dryad knew better. "…one last time."

The silent emotion behind her statement forced the other to think. The girl was not attached to the city's presence in the same way that the others were-

_(close enough millimeter too far)_

-but she seemed to know the truth as well as they did. It was not a surprising fact. To some extent, it was _expected_. She had been one of them, even if the world did not recognize it. Cassandra was the second Batgirl. The Justice League did not recognize her as one due to their own ideas of where she should be.

_(jail asylum help hurt_

_idiots)_

The shadows carved into his face as he began to speak. "It's been less than a year, and the city has deteriorated. It's worse than its existence before Batman. Few heroes have cared enough to save the people here, but it's too little a force to matter. People who could afford to move have already left, except for the few tied to it city. The shadows are darker than they've ever been."

Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Sylph says the shadows should be worse."

"What of it? He's been asleep for months. He-"

"You absorbed the spell."

_(of course she knows)_

"Yes," he confirmed. There was no point of denying the obvious facts. "When the others were captured, there wasn't enough force to repel the full effects. The city would have been in ruins if we didn't do it."

"You were insane."

"To some extent. In the last few months, we've become saner. You grow use to fighting off the effects." The words were not supposed to be said aloud. The agreement had appeared in silence between the three that remained when they took in the curse. They wanted to save their city, no matter the cost. Sanity appeared to be a small price as they regained their own strength.

"And now?" The question was short and simple. He could not help but enjoy it.

"The others are recovering their strength from the binds the League placed on them, but they have enough power to divert the effects completely. Maybe one day-" His throat caught the hopeful wish from his heart. There were some things that he had no chance of fixing. "Well, we would have enough one day."

"And then what?"

A wry smile worked its way to his lips. In the shadows of the caverns, he suspected that he looked sinister. It was not an unusual thought to come to him. The months had been a cruel teacher to his soul, revealing what rested within the true darkness. It called out to him the same way that it shunned him.

"I guess we figure it out from there."

"And if Lampads is…" A glint appeared in her eyes, shimmering with the dying hope and sadness that very few could have. It was a rare moment for her to let down the mask that she had grown up with, but not at all sudden. The news had managed to drain the family of what little brightness they had. "…gone?"

The tone had a final-like quality to it. It did not happen on purpose, but reality had achieved the goal of twisting what was supposed to be there. There was a faint whisper telling him that they were impossibilities to his dreams.

_(they don't understand)_

"He's not gone," he muttered, steel overtaking the tone. "Mother won't let it happen."

* * *

><p><strong>August 11, 11:34 PM<br>****Gotham City**

Kon blinked. Kaldur returned the gesture with a constant stare of his own. It was unwavering, almost the exact opposite of the one that M'gann had given when she had looked at him in the lighting of the caverns. She had tried her hardest to advert her gaze while reminding the clone of all that he had betrayed. It had not worked. The Atlantean's gaze, however, only held the implied question that had always been waiting for him.

"It's because I love them." The words sat in the air, adding a dense weight to it. Kaldur's mouth didn't contort at the supplied answer. M'gann, on the other hand, frowned as she interpreted the words. Kon knew that there was no redemption within his statement that she could cling to. The crush that she harbored had managed to last too long for his liking, anyways.

"Love?" she whispered. Within the same second, tears formed at the corners of her eyes. "How can you love them? They're monsters-"

"If they are, then they are the League's monsters." He had wanted to deny the comment outright, but he knew-

_(we're all monsters rejects don't belong)_

-that there was some truth in the words. As much as he did not want to believe such a possibility, he knew that they had all descended down the path of madness. It was an appealing thought. "They sent the family to death. They killed-"

"My uncle would never kill anyone!"

She had left an opening with her logic that Kon could not help but use. "He rejected you because you're a White Martian. You cannot simply believe that he's as fair as you think he is."

The tears proceeded to roll down her cheeks faster. Some fell off of her face and onto the metallic collar that chained her to the wall. "That's… something completely different."

Kadlur's gaze had steeled with Kon's reply. His own collar seemed to melt away from him, as if the image corrected itself into letting the world see the leader for who he was. "Why did you say that?"

"Because it's the truth!" His voice was laced with frustration. It came with the realization that the others, while knowing enough to turn away from the League, were still rooted in their beliefs. "If they were truly the heroes that we thought they were, then we wouldn't be here. _I_ wouldn't be alive."

"What are you-"

"The government knows that Superman is as human as anyone else is in terms of his mind structure." Dryad's words drifted over the group before he stepped out of the shadows. Kon made no move to show his surprise, but silently wondered if his metahuman senses would ever pick up the other's presence. "Any man can be swayed from his cause. If Superman was convinced that working for Lex Luthor was how he could save the world, he would do it. It's not impossible. How else would we be on the other side of the 'battle for good'?"

"You sound… saner," Kon muttered. He cast his eyes sideways to look at his lover, the deep blue curious and insightful. Dryad even _appeared_ saner. He had lost a weight of darkness from his face, giving Kon a glimpse of the Tim that was captured in photographs. There had never been a hope within the Kryptonian that he would see sanity within the blue eyes.

_(impossible)_

"It's hard to imagine, isn't it?" Laughter rumbled with hints of an echo. "I've lost so much because of those stupid 'heroes.' They even took my sanity."

"And you hate them," M'gann said softly.

"At this point, I have every right too." A frown was beginning to form on Dryad's lips. It appeared natural on the saner face, as if he had been living with the expression most of his life. "I lost my life, my sanity… They took my family too. Why should I forgive them?"

"If… If they killed you, there must have been a reason!" The Martian's voice got stronger with each word, carrying the hope that she was right. Kon couldn't help but let his mind wonder-

_(a human trait? universal?)_

-at the implications.

"Now trying to justify our deaths?" Dryad tilted his head, amusement shining in his blue eyes. "I'm guessing Nymph didn't tell you everything."

The wordless glance was answer enough. Kon shifted his sight to the leader of what was once Young Justice, observing the confusion taking form on his face. His brow had creased at whatever thoughts he had brought about in his head. It was a fitting look for a leader based upon the media that Kon could call to mind.

"You're not ready for the truth," Dryad concluded, his words slowly filling the cave. "You believe in 'justice' so much. Such a… an accomplishment." He turned around in a single, smooth motion. "Come on, Kon. There are preparations that are waiting for us."

The Kryptonian could sense the difference in the tone. It was within the indifference, lacing the command with a mask that was invisible to the rest. It was not a feature of the teenager that Kon had met months after his escape from Cadmus. It was a part of the genuine boy that remained under the sanity, waiting until it was able to reappear.

The clone's heavier steps followed the other's. The shadows greeted them with a cold embrace, beckoning them deeper into the maze of Gotham. There was a chill that sunk into the air. There was warmth there as well, although it was only able to serve as a reminder of the life that managed to survive in the city.

"Do you think that they'll still side with the League?" Kon asked once they were out of any possible hearing range. The muttered question was more than the simple curiosity that laced the tone: he was hoping that there was some chance. They had all been kind to him, no matter what thoughts of his allegiance crossed their minds. Returning the favor seemed natural.

"Who knows?" A half-lazy shrug accompanied the response. "We can never really be sure about people at times. Superman, the symbol of righteous, barely recognized you exist. We're the bad guys even though we've been on the 'good side' for so many years. Things can happen.

"It's even worse for them. They're directly in the middle of this madness and no one is giving them straight answers. The League is too ashamed, and we don't want to destroy their world just yet. It's too much information at once."

"…what would you have done? You know, if you were…" The words seemed to be out of reach. It was a common phrase that everyone used, but never supplied by the robotic knowledge Cadmus supplied him with.

"In their shoes?" Dryad finished. A small smile played upon his face, lacking any form of malice that would have turned the question cruel. "Hm… I would probably listen to the other side, the whole time denying everything. Probably call them crazy a few times. Then somehow get back to the League and demand answers."

The thoughts stayed with Kon for a moment. "Makes sense."

"The kicker is that we would still trust the League, even if it was only for a bit. Some might just say it was all lies and dismiss anything else the other side says. But we collect information. We make our own judgments."

Realization had seeped into Kon at that point. It was a slow, steady trickle of syrup that clung to his mind. "They're going to be allowed to return?"

"It was never planned. Siren pointed it out yesterday."

"She'll lose Kaldur."

There was a slight shrug that came before the verbal response. "She said it's a greater return if Kaldur comes back completely loyal. It's worth the risk."

"And Nymph?"

This time, there was a definite pause that defined the response. "Nymph likes M'gann. But there's no love from M'gann. She'll be a harder risk to take, letting her go."

Kon frowned, feeling anger warm his senses with a rage that could kill. His steps halted before he spoke. "But the League is just going to lock her up! They don't trust her just because she's a White Martian! They could search her mind a hundred times over, but they won't accept her because of who she is-"

"Your voice is carrying," Dryad said as he turned to face the clone. His lips closed into a hard, steady line before speaking again. "You never told me that the League was like that to you."

The silence that followed the words was uncomfortable, a steady reminder to Kon that his past was not as kind as the others may had thought it was. It was true that the League had taken the time to train him when Superman failed to fulfill any parental duties. They had become his family, offering him the comfort and advice that he needed. But many were imperfect in their affection. Many had forgotten that he did not ask to exist in such a way. Superman's coldness had grabbed a hold of their hearts. It had led to the teenager to be constantly monitored in fear of a sudden rebellion against them. The few that believed him lacked the power to stop the constant watching.

"They were discrete about it. If Black Canary hadn't told me…"

"There would have been enough rage in you to level the city once you found out." A chuckle filled the damp air. "This is what makes you turn away from the League. The others don't have that… yet."

"And M'gann will get her own experience if she goes." Kon paused as the thoughts rolled through his head. "Is that why we're letting her go?"

"Amongst other things, yes." Dryad took a step forward, erasing the distance between the two. "It's adorable on how you fret over them."

_(bad thing?)_

"Come on. Let's see if we can help Mother out." Their fingers intertwined into a complicated but known puzzle. There was no warmth gained with the motion, but the Kryptonian had expected no such thing.

_(dead after all)_

* * *

><p><strong>August 12, 2:39 AM<br>****Gotham City**

"You should be asleep." The words were commanding, yet the soft tone underlying them reminded Kaldur that the girl was not as cruel as she pretended to be.

_(all villains like this?)_

It was a stray thought that had already left an impact on his mind. It was a curious thing to consider. Most of his kidnappers had never shown any form of hospitality, filling the time instead with threats of death or hopes of payments. But Siren was different. The fact that they were in love with each other may have made all the difference, but even M'gann-

_(Nymph's pet)_

-was treated with the same care. The collars were an inconvenience, if anything. They served as an anchor to the caverns and a symbol. The Martian had called it a restraint, but even she could not help to admit that it was not the worst one she had to deal with while being on Earth. Their hosts provided them with blankets and food, going beyond the basics to keep them alive and well. There were books as well, offering both outsiders views into human life. It chased away boredom with ease. At other times, Superboy-

_(Kon his name Kon)_

-would keep them company. It was not a bad position to find themselves in.

"I cannot fall asleep." The warmth of the blankets surrounding him did not hold the call of sleep. If there had been any, his thoughts had chased them away. "I was thinking about what Dryad said."

"What did he say?" Siren dropped to the ground gracefully. She sat next to him, close enough for Kaldur to feel her physical presence but not enough to touch him. The icy gaze she directed at the floor, however, had a different effect on the area.

"He… he implied that Nymph did not tell M'gann everything. As if M'gann was not…" The last word came as a struggle for him: it was as if it didn't fit into the sentence yet it was the only word that could match. "…worthy."

"Worthy?" There was surprise lacing her voice, intertwining with a casual air. "Any particular reason why he said that?"

"M'gann said that there might be a logical reason for why…" He trailed off. There was no simple way for him to summarize what had happened to the Wayne family, even with what limited knowledge he did possess. One could have simply written it off as a murder: the family was ultimately brought to their death. But there were many more sides that created the situation he found himself submerged in. There were just not enough words for him to say it correctly. "…they sacrificed you."

"Really, now?" The words dripped slowly out of her mouth, possessing a syrup-like texture that filtered into the air. "She must have forgotten that justice is just an ideal we can only attempt to reach. Anything perfect is just too far beyond our grasps."

As true as the words were, Kaldur could not help but feel a part of him wanting to deny the claim. It had sounded like Siren had given up on it. She had lost the hope of the possibility, no matter how slim it was, of obtaining it.

_(if only can show her)_

That was before he remembered what she had shown him. The memories of the darker side of the Justice League had revealed what lied beyond the public eye. On the other side, there was little love for the outcasts of the world. What friendships Batman had meant nothing to the choice.

"Do you think she will understand one day?"

"Who knows? She's incredibly stubborn in her belief for her uncle. She believes that he loves her. She's… beyond stupid." Siren paused for a second, as if she could not agree with what she had just said. "No, not stupid. Naïve."

Kaldur paused, allowing his thoughts to reorganize with the new word. It took a moment for him to comprehend what he was truly thinking. "She does not think so."

"She's sixteen years old on Mars. She doesn't know anything about 'truth.' None of us did." Her eyes glossed over with memories of what had happened and what could have happened. There was a sudden sadness that descended to capture both of them, reminding Kaldur of what was once his own life. There were images followed by hollow pain to evoke some real sympathy.

"We all were," the Atlantean muttered, the barest hint of malice coming through. "I am sorry that they lied to us."

"We would've become just like them if this didn't happen." Siren's fist balled part of the blanket that had sat under her palm. There was a burn in her voice. "And we would have been okay with it."

"We would not have known better."

"And it would have gone on forever." Her voice was a whisper in the cave, which suddenly seemed much larger. The shadows muttered the words back as they extended their reach. The hidden wonders waited as the conversation continued on. "We would have been happy, though. Happier than this."

Wisdom implanted in the Atlantean at some point of life resurfaced in his mind. He said them with an equal amount of care, but his voice carried a sadder tone. "The truth does not bring happiness."

"If it did, this shit would be a lot easier to deal with."

The swear word did not faze him; the mere passage of time had erased his discomfort for such language. While the words would never leave his own mouth, the usage of such language around him did not bring a cringe that would have been apparent on his features. It was a change that he had noticed with little fanfare. The transition had taken place when he wasn't aware of it. Any anger that would come afterwards was useless to fix the past. He had accepted it and moved on.

_(sign of Hell we survive in)_

"You are going to send her back, are you not?" The question slipped out with little grace and was instead controlled by a smoothness of calm worry. "Because that is the only way she will learn."

"I wish it was different."

"That changes nothing." Kaldur paused before adding, "You are sending me back as well."

Siren did not miss a beat that the conversation had set up. "You don't know everything about the situation."

"I know enough. The League has made it obvious where their care for justice lies if they have kept this from everyone for so long." A bitter taste filled his senses as he spoke. An image of his-

_(former)_

-king seeped into the imagery in his mind, the Atlantean standing proud amongst the other figures of the Justice League. It had been something that Kaldur had wanted with a painful longing. He had never admitted to his friends, keeping his joy a secret when Orin offered him a chance to escape onto the land. It was amazing yet contaminated in ways that Atlanteans understood but never experienced. He had learned early on that lying and holding secrets were within the nature of humans.

Siren tilted her head, her blue eyes containing a mocking that laughed at an inside joke. "When I was Batgirl, there was something that the others kept mentioning. 'Even villains have a story.' That had motives that could explain erratic behavior."

_(erratic)_

"I…" The words faltered as he tried to collect his thoughts. He knew that others could not exist without some sort of background. But to apply the logic to the League's betrayal of Batman and his family-

_(absurd)_

"You're going back either way. It'll be helpful, no matter what you choose." The blonde brought her head closer to the Atlantean's, leaving little space between them. "What happens afterward is up to you."

"I will become a spy then. It will suit your needs well." The words were hushed by his own need to keep secrecy, as if the volume of the words was enough to destroy what he had. "I love you."

"I love you too." Her fingers went up and wrapped around the metal collar. "Even if you insist on wearing this stupid thing."

A smile slowly appeared on his lips. "It reminds me of my place with you."

_(all I need)_

* * *

><p><strong>August 12, 10:15 PM<br>****Watchtower**

_(you forgot him_

_why?)_

J'onn shook his head slightly, willing the voice away. His organized mind had searched itself over several times. There was nothing to be found, though. The source of the voice was nonexistent. A part of him had prepared for the lack of discoveries. An answer would have been too easy. An easy answer would have sent him into paranoia with little difficulty, but it was more like Lampads-

_(why do I remember name?)_

-to do such a thing than the others. There was no Lampads guiding them, either. What remained of the enemy was Bruce Wayne.

"You hurt him badly. Did you know that?"

It took him longer than it should have to remember where the familiar essence of the voice came from. It had been less than a year since he had confronted the woman, but it was not enough of an excuse. In the realm of memories, her voice had played out over and over to him, leaving a lasting impression for some time. That should have been the logic that would have allowed him to recall the information faster. It came with a slow realization that he had been trying to keep the information away from himself. Part of his subconscious had taken the facts away in an attempt to keep him sane from the guilt.

"You remember me now, don't you?" The words were soft, the edge of the emotions reeking of her anger. The woman was standing casually behind the Martian. The sight of her as he turned his head did not make him recoil although it did strike him as odd. He could remember Bruce's care for her, commenting-

_(remember voice pride_

"She can accomplish anything."

what words)

-on her ability to be proud despite her handicap.

He turned around fully, his gaze not wavering off of the woman. Her gaze stayed the same, strong and piercing with the shadows of the suffering she had endured. There was defiance within her stance. If J'onn did not know of her powers after death, he would have misjudged it to be purely out of pride.

"How did you-"

_"-get in here?"_ Her words echoed his as he spoke them. A startled look bled through his emotionless mask before he could stop it. "_How can you- You're reading my mind._I know, J'onn. I know what you did to my husband."

The silence that filed into the room after she spoke froze the present time, throwing his mind back to the faithful day she was talking about. There had been a coolness in the air above the buildings of Gotham. It had swept through the two figures, only touching one of them with the darkness of the situation. It had reminded the Martian of-

_(home)_

-Mars towards the poles of the planet. There was something wrong with what was about to occur above the street shadows, marred with the victory of capturing the others earlier in the day. Those emotions had taken a hold of J'onn's heart.

It was supposed to be something grand. Oliver had referred it to a final showdown before they ended the Bat family's presence in Gotham. While the other three had not been caught, there was little doubt that they would be apprehended if Bruce had fallen. The trio, however, had simply disappeared. Bruce was the last of the visible targets that needed to be stopped. He had stood on the concrete rooftop as if nothing had changed since his death, the shadow beneath his feet contorting itself to appear as the image of the vigilante he once was.

It was the woman's soft voice that repeated the words that were burned into the Martian's memory. _"'I wanted to be a force of good, J'onn. But my family comes first.'_ Do you remember what you told him next, or do I need to remind you?"

There had been no form of a taunt in her voice, although they both knew that she was challenging the Martian. He remembered the moment with simple clarity. It had kept him awake at nights in the form of nightmares and free-roaming thoughts. There was no redemption from having the memory, but it was the closest he had gotten to cleaning himself of the betrayal.

"What do you want?" J'onn managed to keep his voice leveled. It made him feel better, despite knowing that the woman could easily see through the façade presented to her. The only benefit in the words was comfort for the Martian, although there wasn't much to be gained from the moment.

"Retribution, J'onn. Do you know what it's like to watch your children and husband die?" she whispered. "Did you not learn anything from Mars?"

The words struck him with the harshness that was intended. The memories of his family were always strong, refusing to leave the surface of his thoughts. There had never been anything to take away the pain. Even M'gann-

_(used )_

-had not been able to tear J'onn away from the pain for long.

"Remember _your _retribution, J'onn? Locking away those White Martians made you feel good. Rejecting a _child_ because she was one of them was _good._" She was careful to stress certain words, her eyes unwavering as the words pierced J'onn. "Don't you think that I would like to feel better too?"

_(pain anguish)_

_(they're all gone you want them back_

_I want my children back too)_

"You killed people-"

"_-that didn't deserve death. You're a monster now._ And who allowed you to be a god of this world? You're an alien." The woman took a few soft steps forward. An aura swept through the room, freezing the air with aggravated energy. The temperature dropped below a comfortable level, even for the Martian. It was the spark in her eyes, however, that kept him place as she took each step. "You are the monster this time, J'onn J'onzz. I lost my family because of the choices that the League made. I will not be denied my retribution."

_(worse than M'gann_

_child innocent of blame assumed to be like others_

_remember my husband)_

The words chanted away in J'onn's mind, whispers laced with the pain he inflicted upon himself for believing his own lies. He was unable to quiet the voice. Compared to her, he was a small bug with no reason to escape its fate. Her powers had advanced beyond the stage the League witnessed when they saw her last.

_(she could kill us all)_

_(I could)_

A soft melody filled the air. It was unable to calm the tense static that clung to the room, but it managed to soothe the defiance in J'onn. His limbs loosened with the soft notes, his mind following them to find a part of him that was forever remembering his lost family. For a moment, his sense brought him the remainders: the laughter of his children, the endless landscape, his wife's touch. Mars had remained beautiful in his memory, lacking the war-torn fires and destruction. Evil was unknown in the bliss. Earth was only another planet that was beginning to develop. It had nothing to the red land that waited before him that was already filled with brilliant life.

It wasn't long before he forgot about the tear-stained human standing in front of him, the hum of a lullaby playing upon her lips.

* * *

><p><strong>So, yeah, Cassandra is the second Batgirl that the League had refused to acknowledge. Wonderful, isn't it?<strong>

***goes to work on second half* In case I don't get a chance to upload it before the holidays and new year, I wish you all happiness during the celebrations!**


	7. Lampads Part II

**Okay, so I took a little forever on this half of the chapter (because two months can seem like forever). To make up, you guys get over 10k words in this part. Yay!**

**So, we continue with Lampads's chapter, and get to find out more about Brucie! Yay- oh, wait, there's sad parts in here. Right... Oh well. Yay!**

**Also, special shout out for Dark Goddess of Shadows who is a good portion of the reason of why this chapter didn't take another month or so. Yay!**

**And I... still don't own Young Justice. Darn.**

**Anyways... enjoy!**

* * *

><p><strong>November 4, 12:26 AM<br>****Gotham City**

_There had been a lot of blood by the time he was finished. His anger had been consistent throughout the time he spent within the asylum, but each kill had gotten gorier. The reminder of his deeds followed him, taking the form of blood flowing in the cracks in the floor. But in the end, it didn't really matter. It was only a simple observation. There was no other reason for him to dwell on the facts._

(monster)

_The remorse, which would have filled the man less than a week ago, was absent. It came as no surprise. He was no longer the man from the close past. That man had lost everything within a span of hours. What little that remained distanced itself from whatever morals he once had. Whatever sway the morals had after time had done damage to his psyche disappeared when he killed the Riddler. It did not signal the end of the night's work, however._

_He was aware of the traces of blood that ran off of his gloves. The path that it left throughout the cold hallways was incriminating, but did nothing to slow him down. Any punishment that the humans-_

(no longer one of them)

_-could come up with was nothing compared to the Hell he found less than a week ago._

_The cell that his steps directed him to was familiar. There had always been modifications, but the placement was the same. There was no need for a nameplate; it was well known to those who frequented the hallways of Arkham Asylum that it was Joker's cell._

"_Well, guards, is it time for my- Brucie!" The crackles of the prisoner filled the hallway. The echoes bounced off the walls, having already been expressed by whatever the stone could absorb throughout the years._

"_Joker." Lampads's voice was harsh. Whether it was from disuse or simply being brought back to life-_

(not life still dead just animated)

-_the man didn't know. It hadn't really mattered to him. "Do you know why I'm here?"_

"_Hm, let me think." A long, thin finger tapped against the crimson red lips, bringing about sinister memories of face offs that filled entire nights. "My birthday? No, that was _months _ago! Hm… Oh! Halloween! But that's not _quite_ the answer you're looking for, eh? And you are kind of late, Bats."_

_It took a second for Lampads to realize that he had allowed his secret identity to slip out of his control as he killed those who had wronged his family. Part of him didn't care for the small fact as his life was worth nothing now. It was only the whispered reminder-_

(Alfred Cassandra)

_-that made the man feel for the cowl that was usually placed over his eyes._

"_Little Bats forget his cowl? Aw, that's too bad!" There was mocking in the man's voice, his eyes flashing with his infamous insanity. But it was the barest hints of empathy that drew the once-vigilante into the depth of the words._

"_Do you know why I'm here?"_

"_Such a cliché, Bats ol' buddy! Course I do!" Joker's arms sprang outwards with enthusiasm. It was sickening to watch the man answer to murder with such glee._

(what does that make me?)

"_I killed one of your birds! Yay big-" Joker's left arm shot out to indicate a rough estimate of Red Hood's-_

(Jason)

_-height. "-really hot headed, might have been on the stupid side?" A mad crackle erupted into a laugh. "He went off with a bang!"_

_A man like Batman would have stopped the insane man from talking before the first sentence had left his mouth. But that man was dead; Lampads may have once been the Dark Knight, but time had bled him dry. There was only the darkness left. Bruce Wayne would have not touched such power in fear of the destruction it could bring about. Lampads had turned to it willingly._

"_Batman let you get away with far too much. He should have killed you the first time around," Lampads said. His voice was harsh and flat with silent rage, one of the few remainders of the life that existed before._

(Batman)

_If he had wanted to, he could have allowed the guise of the Dark Knight to be his identity. The costume still fitted him with a sense of ease and familiarity. But the cowl no longer worked. Lampads left it in his haste for retribution, not realizing the breach of identity until Joker revealed it. The other victims had quivered and paled as the final fear of death worked through their veins._

"_Uh, Bats, I think you're a little touched in the head!" The glee increased with each word. "Keep this up and you'll end up in here yourself! Unless…"_

"_I don't care where I end up anymore," Lampads admitted. His eyes turned to his gloved hands, suddenly entranced by the blood that was still sliding off. The cape of the costume suddenly weighed against his shoulders with the blood it had soaked up that night. A pool of the excess liquid was forming around his boots, going beyond the cracks of the floor. "There's nothing else here for me."_

_Joker's eyes widened for a second, the man's own gaze following the dead blue eyes. His humor, however, failed to leave him in his shock. "Why, Bruce ol' pal, I would say you're a natural at this! Tell me, what's your secret?"_

_The words were out of Lampads's mouth before he could stop them. It was almost compulsion that allowed him to answer his greatest enemy. "My family died, Joker."_

"_Even the little birds? And the wife?"_

"_Everyone."_

_A beat of silence found its way into the room, tensing with the dripping blood. It was natural in ways that the once-vigilante could not have explained. It did not stand in between them, but off to the side where it could not interfere with the silent conversation that managed to appear. It wasn't hard to even call the moment _comfortable_. The rage had quelled with the few seconds, pulling upon images of Pyroead from recent memories. Retribution was still a priority, but it didn't carry the weight that it should have._

(not like the League no betrayal just simple truth)

"…_when I killed my wife's killer- well, that and everyone connected to him- I thought that it would put a big smile on my face. You know the kind, Brucie: the ear-to-ear, face splitting kind! Of course, I never did get the punch line." A grimace of frustration appeared on the tainted red lips before giving way to a smile filled with insanity and false happiness. "It was fun, though."_

_Memories flickered across Lampads's mind, statistics flashing with words and numbers of the cases. The evidence had been hard to gather, but instinct had told the vigilante that it was the Joker's fault. The bleached-skin man, however, was good at hiding: by the time that Batman was able to catch him, he no longer cared to pull the cold cases from the dust._

"_Are you trying to save yourself?"_

"_No, no. That'll be _boring!_ This place is going to Hell, anyways!"_

("going to Hell"

her words)

"_You-" The rest of the question was struggling to come out. There was a sense of impossibility to the idea, but Gotham was filled with the impossible in the dark corners of the city._

"_I can hear pretty well, Bats. I've been able to hear since the accident." The solemn smile returned, destroying the image of insanity that the Joker had created for himself. "I couldn't stand it. It was a lot of nonsense then."_

"_That's why you went insane." Lampads considered the weight of the words before correcting himself. "Part of the reason."_

"_It certainly did help." Joker stood up straight, the glee in his eye mixing with the first and only hint of true sanity that Lampads had ever seen in the man. "I heard a different voice when I killed your precious bird."_

"_I know." It was hard to admit that there was another factor. If it had just been the darkness itself that was set upon killing Batman and his family, they could have rested with a sense of peace. But that was not the case._

(betrayal)

_Joker shrugged. There was nothing in his gesture that betrayed his emotions. If Lampads had to hazard a guess, he would have believed that the Joker was regretful. "If you say so, Bats."_

_The darkness from the corners of the room began to call out to Lampads. The hallway behind him had more, their voiceless whispers filling his head with murderous intent. His right hand twitched at the thought of the blood that would spill. It would be retribution. It was not retribution that made up for everything, but it was a step in the right direction._

_One last twisted grin came upon the scarlet lips. The mix of sanity and insanity rested in his eyes, bringing to them a spark of life as he watched Lampads. "Meet you in Hell, Batsy ol' pal?"_

_The response came out of the former hero naturally. "Of course."_

(nowhere else to go)

* * *

><p><strong>August 12, 11:45 PM<br>****Watchtower**

A cold sweat had found its way upon Bruce's skin by the time the nightmare-

_(nightmare or memory)_

-ended. It made the air of the room feel cold against him, awakening his senses more. The bed in the infirmary of the Watchtower suddenly grew cold. The electronic hum of the machinery that lied around him suddenly became harsh. It was all unfamiliar, even unfriendly, to his point of view. A sudden longing for his home back on Earth filled his mind before-

_(can never go back)_

-realization dawned on him.

The only comfort that the room had was the shadows.

_(my love)_

The man's head shot towards what he thought to be the source of the voice. It was all too familiar, yet there was no name that he could find to label it. The fact disheartened him as it reminded Bruce of the vast amount of memories that had left him. He brought his gaze around the room slowly, hoping to find the source.

_(the door)_

The thoughts caused Bruce to cringe. The voice within his own head had begun to sound like his arch-nemesis. It made little, if any, sense. There had been a few times before where Bruce was sure that it was the Joker's voice that had managed to slip into his head and torture him. It was never helpful to listen to it, as it only promised insanity. But the voice in his head captured something else for the villain.

_(the door Brucie the door)_

The vigilante's blue eyes turned towards the doorway. With the open frame and little lighting, he could see the outline of a woman's figure. It captured his gaze, watching more than observing. It was familiar to him through the unknown memory, yet retained the air of mystery that his memory loss provided. There was a fascination that filled his mind. For a moment, Bruce could have sworn that there was a feeling of love at the pit of his stomach.

"Lampads."

Bruce blinked. The figure did not move, giving him time to process the voice and the single word. A part of the vigilante was expecting that his senses were simply failing him and that it was simply a League member that waited at the doorway. It was no stretch of the imagination to see Diana waiting by the door and unsure of whether to enter the room or not. But the voice was softer than the Amazon princess's. There was also the silhouette; the woman at the doorway was not as thin or muscular as Diana. But there was something in the figure before him that made him want to love her more than his teammate.

_(haven't seen Diana)_

"She's not here."

The unasked question dried up in his throat. He had not planned on even asking; the question was only a fleeting thought.

His hands found themselves pushing against the mattress, angling his body until he was sitting without its support. Strength that had been returning brought him out of bed. "Who are you?"

It took the woman a few seconds of hesitation before she answered. "A muse for your memory. There's no other way to reverse the damage."

With the fading echo of her words, she disappeared.

"No!" Bruce launched himself out of the bed. His lack of balance almost threw him to the ground, but the man caught himself at the last possible second and used the force to propel forward. The doorway passed his line of vision before he realized that there was another voice in the background.

He paused, leaning against the wall as the adrenaline flowed through his system. The blue eyes closed for a moment, engulfing him in the sound of breathing. It was the melody of a song that remained unfamiliar. The recesses of the billionaire's mind began to translate the words, bringing the man's line of thought to a conclusion.

_(J'onn)_

It was with great effort that he managed to push himself towards the room next to the infirmary. A sense of panic managed to carry him through. The song was soft and calming, and with a twisted hope Bruce wished that it was as simple as it sounded. But the detective knew too much about the Martian. It pained him to allow his paranoia to get in the way, but there was no other way for him to accept the facts.

The sight that greeted him only confirmed his suspicions. From the doorway of the other room, Bruce could see through the darkness that engulfed the Martian. The other was standing in the middle of the room. His posture was calm, not ready to fall over but not tense at the same time. The cape of his costume flowed around his figure as it usually did while he was meditating. The Martian was staring at the doorway, his lips moving to form the words of his song.

J'onn's eyes never recognized him, however; they were glazed over with some happy illusion that Bruce could not see.

_(hope it's a good one_

_right Brucie?)_

* * *

><p><strong>August 13 1:22AM<br>****Gotham City**

Nymph's stare did not leave the sleeping Martian's form, even as the footsteps filled the cavern. She reached out hesitantly, as if she wanted to touch the girl who was curled up with the unmistakable trail of tears drying on her cheeks. The woman pulled her hand back at the last second. A cringe pulled at her face.

The footsteps stopped beside her. Silence filled the air. The request for her to begin the conversation, due to the lack of experience from the other, was fulfilled. "I'm scared for her."

"Would the League really murder her?" Kon asked. He slowly knelt down, his gaze never leaving the Martian.

A chuckle escaped Nymph. "They murdered us. I'm not sure what difference it would make if they killed her as well."

"Kaldur will be with her."

"True." She sighed softly. "He's so willing to believe us. Why doesn't he doubt anything? Why-"

"He's in love. That's… that's all that matters, right?" The Kryptonian's gaze turned to the red head, his eyes filled with hesitance from his voice. For a moment, Nymph could see Kon's true age shining through everything Dryad taught him. No matter what she saw, there was still a small child in the clone. The denial of his true age that Cadmus and the League gave him did nothing to help him grow. She could only imagine how bad it would have been if Dryad did not save Kon.

The thoughts of Siren with the Atlantean brought another set of emotions to the woman. From what the memories had told her, it was close to instant love between them. Nymph would not have believed it if it weren't for the simple facts that stood against her: Siren had lost her intention to kill the teenager and the Atlantean, in turn, betrayed the justice that he grew up with. There was something about the idea that the older woman could not deny. Experience provided her with few examples, but the ones that existed were stronger than the counterexamples. Love at first sight was not a novel concept, but simply rare.

"For that case, yes. Siren is lucky to have someone like him." The words were not forced, but her tone gave a harsher feel for the words. "Kaldur is very loyal."

"Did…" The clone fumbled with the question, his words just about to trip over each other before he stopped himself. For a moment, Nymph could see the confusion cross his face, making him appear gentler. She waited patiently for the question. "Did you have someone like that?"

A smile started to curve her lips. "Like Kaldur? Or even you?" She shook her head slightly. "No. There was never someone who loved me. There were a few times when I thought it was possible but… No. I never had one."

Kon looked ready to protest his inclusion as an example. It was not out of hatred, but Nymph could see the hints of self-loathing that resided in the back of his head. Superman had placed the seeds there. The Justice League allowed them to grow. Dryad did his best to erase the damage, but even unconditional love couldn't fully remove the doubt that seemed to have become part of the Kryptonian. It was with that doubt that created the feeling of inferiority when he was compared to Kaldur. The other teenager knew more and loved Siren despite the vast differences. Kon never knew what it was like.

Nymph slowly rose from her hovering position over the Martian girl. "You love Dryad without a second thought. I can admire you for that."

"M'gann might love you one day too."

_(I know)_

The smile turned into a smirk. "We'll see."

Another voice joined the conversation, the whisper filling the darkness. "You will find love, Nymph."

"Mother. I didn't realize you were back." Without any thought, her eyes moved back to watching the sleeping form of the Martian. "Actually, you never even told us what you went out for."

"J'onn had to be… occupied with other matters before we allow them to go back." Muse stepped out of the darkest shadows, allowing what little light there was to outline her figure. "I would not let you willingly send back your interest without caution."

"Thank you," the redhead said softly. "I appreciate the concern. However, I doubt that M'gann will fall for me."

"I said the same thing once about Lampads. Use more of your patience." The older woman turned her gaze to Kon. "I realize that you have not left the caverns often. I would like to offer you something to do above ground."

The sky blue eyes lit up briefly before another doubt set into place and removed the happiness. "Superman's sure to hear me up there."

"Not so." Even in the darkness, Nymph could see the knowing smile on the woman's lips. "He believes you still have a heartbeat. We, of course, know otherwise. I suggest that you remove the contraption my son made for you."

"R-right." His hand came up and hovered over the spot where his heart once was. "Will Dryad be coming with me?"

"Not this time, I'm afraid. This is something you must handle on your own." Muse took a few more steps towards them. Her eyes seemed to glow, the light increasing with each step. "There is no immediate danger. I just believe that you'll do better by yourself."

Kon nodded. He looked out of the corner of his eyes to match Nymph's gaze, before retreating into the darkness behind him.

"It's for that other kid. Wally." Nymph looked away as she spoke, her eyes becoming focused on the rocky ground of the cave. "You think he deserves a chance to change sides."

"They are children, after all," Muse whispered. "You realize they're not at fault."

The younger woman's lips tightened. It was true that she had accepted the fact with a small amount of grace. Watching Kon become part of the darkness gave her enough of a reason to believe in the young members of the Justice League. Roy Harper had destroyed some of her hope. But the doubt had vanished as she watched Kaldur prove himself to the group.

_(what about M'gann?)_

"But what if the kid chooses the League?" Nymph's doubt drove the sentence forward. "He was close to Roy-"

"So was Sylph," Muse answered back calmly.

"He's my brother."

"You're upset about M'gann."

Nymph opened her mouth to protest, but closed it once she realized that words were failing her. Instead, she cast her gaze upon the sleeping Martian again. Her eyes followed the rise and fall of the girl's chest. The rhythm was calm and smooth, flowing with the natural sense of a heartbeat. The chain attached to her collar rocked with it silently against the ground.

"You're afraid that she will choose the League over you," Muse continued, "because she is not like Kaldur. She doesn't like our ideals."

A chuckle escaped the redhead. "She'll never love a killer, Mother."

"And I thought that Bruce Wayne would never fall in love with a villain. But he did," Muse said. When Nymph looked up to meet her eyes, there was a faint smile on the older woman's lips. "Give it time."

"How… how long will it take? Before he remembers?" Nymph asked hesitantly.

"Days, maybe months. I will wait. The League cannot hold him forever." The smile, while not physically changing, seemed to grow in power. "You can never leave the darkness for long."

_(can never escape)_

* * *

><p><strong>August 13, 9:23 AM<br>****Saint Juan, Puerto Rico**

They had been careful in their movements, making it almost impossible to trace the locations they visited. Bruce, however, was not an ordinary searcher. His skills reached far above many trackers due to countless hours of finding both heroes and villains through data. Even magic managed to leave a trace within the recorded data on computers: it just became a matter of knowing what to look for while searching.

A part of him had been expecting the events to play out in such a way after talking to the rest of the League. It had taken time to escape the infirmary without any help, but it was not a complete waste of time convincing the others. In the end, Bruce was able to discover about half of his current information by gentle prodding or full demands for facts. When he came across the information about Zatara, questions had immediately followed. Things were too convenient with the timing and events. There was little guesswork that was needed afterwards, bringing attempts to track the magician to the front of his list.

He rested a gloved hand on the glass door of the patio. The costume that he had managed to salvage from the League's collection wasn't ill-fitting, but still acted as an unnatural skin for the Dark Knight. It was never intended to be put into use again. It was, however, the only one that he were able to find as the Batcave had supposedly fallen to its doom.

_(why are you believing them Brucie?_

_people lie all the time)_

The natural frown etched upon his lips deepened at the sound of the Joker's voice in his head. Since he had woken from the nightmare-

_(you know better not a nightmare_

_stop lying to yourself doesn't suit you Bats)_

-the voice filled his head with thoughts that belonged to a one-sided conversation. While Bruce was not sure whether or not the voice captured all of his actual thoughts in a cynical manner, there was no denying the fact that it was affecting his ideas.

Being lost in his thoughts, the Dark Knight managed to suppress his surprise as one of the curtains moved back. The teenage magician on the other side was not completely surprised with his presence, however. With a finger to her lips, she turned her head slightly and said something to someone out of Bruce's line of sight. In the next moment she was outside on the balcony, having care to not let her companion know.

"Zatanna." The name rumbled out of Bruce's throat. "I need to talk to your-"

"It wasn't my dad. I released Artemis," Zatanna said. Her blue eyes kept a constant stare that leveled with Batman's. "Don't get him involved."

The determination that confronted Bruce brought a new set of questions. He had gone with the intention of getting a motive from Zatara. It had not occurred to him that the magician's daughter, who was equally talented but lacked experience, was the one who had the answers he was looking for.

The villainous image that filtered through the shadows of Bruce's mind could not condemn the teenager, however. She was Artemis's-

_(Artemis is dead_

_remember that Brucie?)_

-age, and at one time a very close friend. She was one of the few female heroes that talked to the infamous Batgirl. The others had accepted her faster than Batman had, taking to her magic with some of the wonder a child had for the unexplainable.

The questions interrupted his thoughts. With a shake of his head, he began his interrogating under the shade of the patio. "You knew she was dangerous. Why?"

Her gaze never wavered. "Because she would have done it for me."

"Wrong answer."

"If she was also relieving a burden from you, then she would have done it."

A rush of emotions gripped the Dark Knight. He knew that it was true: Artemis was hot-headed at times and would have easily jumped at a chance to relieve some of her father's-

_(you're her father Brucie_

_not biological of course_

_just every other way)_

-pain. "You made it worse for your father."

"They don't want our blood. We just have to stay out of their way." Her voice didn't waver, a sign of the pure belief in the words. Bruce could not help but believe in them in his own mind.

"Do you know anything about what they're doing?"

"I told you: revenge." Zatanna's eyes widened slightly as she spoke. "You… you don't remember?"

"Obviously." Bruce frowned. "Is there something more to this?"

"They'll…"

"We just lost J'onn. Do not tell me you don't want to stop-" The word stumbled out of his mouth as he hissed the sentence. One part of his mind reminded him about the Martian. J'onn was unresponsive to any stimulus given, where pain or pleasure. Instead, he continued to look around to recognize whatever images his brain supplied, acting if reality was never there.

Clark had made it a point to tell Bruce that it was his family's fault. Oliver jumped in, implying that it was all Bruce's fault. The fact was repeated several times. No one stepped in to stop the ridicule. It led to Bruce storming out of the infirmary and to the computer room. That, in turn, brought some more of the truth of Zatara's absence. It was only a few minutes of research and some maneuvering to find his old costume and recalibrate the teleporter.

"They'll go after Dad if I tell you. The League would get us if…" Her sentence trailed off, only to be lost to her thoughts. It was several moments of silence before she began again. "I can't help. I really want to. But I need to protect Dad from both sides. I'm… I'm sorry."

_(both sides)_

"The League-"

"Don't tell me that they care!" Zatanna exclaimed. The energy that came with her burst of emotion faded within the next second. "Just… don't. Please."

_(Justice League did something)_

Bruce started again. "The League won't do anything to your father if he had nothing to do with it."

"How do you know? They allowed that _curse_ to take place! They wanted you all-" The teenager stopped speaking, catching herself before she revealed anything else.

"Wanted us all what?"

"…dead. They wanted you all dead." The girl closed her eyes slowly as sadness painted over her features. With a whisper, she said, "That's what started the killings."

The words washed over Bruce. The Dark Knight tried to wrap his mind around what they meant, but a part of him kept rebelling. There was no possible reason for why the League would want him-

_(family don't forget the family Bats)_

-dead, both logically and emotionally. Logic was easy to figure out: it was what Batman built his career off of. Emotions were somehow even easier to predict, knowing the forces that were behind them. Killing not only went against all of their moral codes, but the relationship that had built up between all of the members, while tense, did not mean death wishes.

_(shouldn't you investigate Brucie?_

_else someone's gonna end up dead!)_

"Go." Batman's voice held the commanding grace that pounded into any listener. "Stay out of trouble."

"Good luck," Zatanna shot back. Her hand was raised to open the glass door before she added, "Thank you."

By then, Bruce had already slipped off the balcony, leaving the girl with a view of the warm beach.

* * *

><p><strong>August 15, 9:48 PM<br>****Gotham City**

Zatanna's words were still ringing in Bruce's head. He had allowed the girl to escape from any chance of being found, carefully erasing all of the League's records that could lead them to her. While he never told anyone of the magicians' location (as he wasn't supposed to have been out of the Watchtower at that point), the father-daughter pair disappeared after the conversation. Bruce didn't bother trying to track them down again.

The excuses he had made for little things had suddenly disappeared. Denial to any news from Gotham was the first thing that struck the detective. While it wasn't at all hard to circumnavigate their attempts, Bruce could feel the lack of trust radiating off of the others. It was almost painful. It continued to grow as the span of boundaries appeared to increase. Clark, at one point, locked Bruce in the infirmary. That was their biggest mistake.

Selina's words were still fresh in his head. The woman had barely woken from her coma when she began to try and shout at Bruce. It took moments to quiet her down, and longer still to realize that the League was too preoccupied with J'onn's condition to notice. She had told him everything that she could then, explaining the past year's events.

_("degraded"_

"_never came to help"_

"_had a wife, remember?"_

_remember Brucie?)_

She was reclaimed into rest as the last question left her lips. It left Bruce with more questions. What was worse was that there was no way for him to get answers: there was no one who he trusted in the Watchtower and some of the most complex security prevented him from looking up anything to do with Bruce Wayne or his family. Recent memories added to the pile as he recalled finding the spare Batman suit tucked away in a dark corner of storage and how no one would look him in the eye on a regular basis. It was as if they were trying to erase him.

"Leave." Batman's growl had sent the worst thugs running with their tails between their legs, yet it failed to manage the same results with the League members that had followed him. Even Wally West, who had kept his silence in the vigilante's presence, did not react. It left Bruce with the question of whether he had lost his edge or the heroes simply grew tougher.

Clark shook his head. "Bruce-"

"You kept the truth from me, Kent. How many times have I asked you to tell me what's happening in Gotham? How many times have you ignored me?" Bruce kept his gaze upon Wayne Manor, admiring the view that had always stood with him. It had obviously seen better days. But within the grime and disrepairs, there was a sense of timelessness and grace. It was what made Bruce fall in love with it again.

"Listen, Bruce. We have a legitimate reason-"

"Queen, shut up." The sound of his boots against the pavement kept him calm. "Stay out. All of you."

It was only when he was at the doorway that the Dark Knight thought about Barry Allen. The speedster had joined the group and stalked Bruce through the city. But, unlike the others, he kept as silent as the teenager. Despite his costume, the sadness radiated off of his eyes. The other two heroes kept their distance from him, bringing another question to Bruce's ever growing list.

The thoughts fell to the side when the door fell open to him. The hinges creaked with abused age, allowing light to escape into the darkened doorway. The outline of the hallway was silent and filled with unnatural shadows. The furniture, less in number than what there had been before his death, seemed to twist into shapes within the shadows. Traces of dust followed the lines and shapes before adding a final layer over everything. Once in a while, there was a sign of dead plant life from decorations left to time for care. They were brittle and darkened with death, adding the final touches to the manor.

_(Alfred wouldn't let it get to this)_

There were few signs of life. They were recently made, and the people behind them obviously knew the house well enough to know what they were doing. The security was still active, making only few possible answers.

_(come on Brucie let's go exploring)_

His steps led him to the family room without any difficulty, using his faded memories to direct him through the shadows. By the times his eyes under the cowl adjusted to the darkness, he could see the living room laid out before him. Most of the big pieces of furniture were covered with a sheet. The white contrast did nothing for the mood. What few pieces escaped the protection were matted with layers of dust. Memories that filled in the meaning of each piece filled Bruce's head before disappearing to make way for more.

Bruce could feel the presence of the others in the room at his back. He had known that the others would not listen to his previous caution and warning, but there was little comfort against the rising rage that filled him. It had a bitter taste with a kick of heat that would have sent normal men into fits of wordless anger. Even the Dark Knight was having difficulties to contain it. The thoughts that came to him-

_(they did wrong don't remember_

_they did wrong I don't remember_

_THEY DID WRONG I DON'T REMEMBER_

_isn't it sad, Brucie?)_

-did nothing to wear away the feeling.

"Bruce?" Barry's voice, while steady with the worry bringing it through, sounded cracked to the man. Bruce shook off the doubts as he turned his head. "Are you okay?"

"I thought I told you to stay out of here." Some of his anger slipped out into the growl, sending the speedster away with a few steps. He had lifted his hands up, almost defensively, as he moved away. His stare from under the white contacts of his costume, however, did not move. Instead, they were analyzing Bruce. For all the man could tell, the scientist was taking him apart in the same manner Batman did to many of his victims. It had saved the vigilante more than once in the darkness of Gotham, disassembling the men who were waiting to tear him apart. He found himself on the other end of the look multiple times. It never fazed him, yet...

_(never from them)_

"We're worried about you, Bruce." The concern was genuine, but unwanted at the same time. "Things just haven't been going too smoothly and... well..."

"I can take care of myself, Allen," Bruce growled out. He was grateful for the cowl that was returned to him. It hid his burning-

_(rage)_

-blue eyes from the other members of the League. They didn't understand what he was going through. They never had to question everything they knew because of a few lost memories. They thought that their understanding of the world was constant. Someone had once called it paranoia on Bruce's part. The billionaire could remember the anger that bubbled up from within him as he reminded the other that Gotham was full of twists and turns, changing the whims of hero and villain without a second thought.

_(makes us friends, right Brucie?)_

A growl filled Bruce's throat as he heard the madman's voice in his head. He couldn't refute the Joker's voice anymore. The commentary it provided was the closest thing Bruce had to a guide, being constant in the mess. Somehow it was easier to trust the man with Bruce's condition than the entire Justice League. There was a simplicity in the madness that consumed the bleached-skin man; his motives were only of his own. Batman understood that, which earned some of the Joker's attention and, to some extent, even trust. There were times where Bruce was sure that the one mistake that brought him to the villain was made on purpose, if only to continue their game for another day. The League could not understand.

"...Bruce?" Clark's voice was soft with care and compassion. On instinct, it set the vigilante's stomach aflame with annoyance to be on the receiving side of such a thing. But there was something else added to the emotion. It bit against the idea of Superman with acid. "Are you okay?"

"How many times have people tried to rob this place?" There was a protective edge to Bruce's voice. His gaze swept through the room again, noting the signs of breaking and entering. The steps always ended mid-step, as if something-

_(your darkness, Brucie)_

-had swept them up and sent them into oblivion.

The pause that took presence in the air gave the man too much of an answer. "Are you telling me that you left this place to be ransacked like a common house?"

"Bruce-"

"What about Gotham?" With a sudden start of realization, Bruce realized why the reports left out so much information about Gotham's current state out. The League had failed to protect his city.

_(sign of guilt)_

"You _left_-"

"Bruce, we didn't have much of a choice-"

"Do you think I would have left Star City to itself if you had died, _Queen_?" Bruce growled, his mask of calmness, or at the very least indifference, starting to fail to hold back his rage. "To save you the trouble: _no."_

"Bruce-"

"Leave me alone, _Kent_." The sound of his steps against the carpet was more than enough to convey his anger. He didn't care where he was going: he just wanted to leave.

It was only when he was in front of his bedroom that Bruce realized he was lost, even beyond his thoughts. It was not his own body leading him to the room, but instead something inside of him. It was not the Joker. The feeling had a woman touch to it, coaxing him with peace to the rage that was filling his head. The most unsettling part was that Bruce _trusted_ the voice without doubt. There was no room for questions with the unshakable belief that accompanied the feeling. Most people would have called it their gut, but the vigilante had too much experience to simply call it that.

The room was in the same state at the family room: sheets covered most of the furniture. The only notable thing not covered was the nightstand. The picture frame on it called for the man, bringing him forward into the room filled with darkness and moonlight.

He rubbed his glove against the glass, watching as the dust gathered against the edge. The frame was big, a simple design shaping the metal. The picture stood out well by itself: all of the Bat family had gathered together in the garden one day, posed for a perfect picture. Dick had an arm around Jason, who pushed against it with a betraying smile on his lips. Tim and Artemis had Cassandra on their shoulders, all of their attention drawn away from the camera. Alfred was smiling at the sight off to the side. Bruce was standing over the table, the center of the proud family.

It was when he looked at Barbara that he noticed the other woman. She was sitting on one of the few chairs that made it into the picture. Her face was tired with some sort of pain of life, reminding Bruce of his own burdens. The smile on her face, however, chased away most of the doubt that remained. Her dark hair was cut short and framed her face well. Her eyes were bright with life. The only hint of shadow that remained was the Bat Symbol that rested against her neck in the form of a gold necklace.

_(well Brucie I now pronounce you Bat and wife!)_

* * *

><p><strong>August 15, 10:26 PM<br>****Gotham City**

The butler seemed wary with age, despite his strong stature and his even steps. It was in the man's eyes where the teenager could see the trouble: they lacked life. Instead, it was as if Wally was looking into some shadow that filled his face. He was in obvious emotional pain, although many would probably chalk it up to a tiresome job and years of managing his emotions well. Barry's stories had told him enough otherwise. It made the moment much more heartbreaking.

"Mr. Kent, Mr. Queen, and Mr. Allen. I wasn't expecting guests. And this young man is-"

"Wally West." As a slight afterthought from his fast mind, the teenager added, "Sir."

"You may call me Aflred. Welcome to Wayne Manor." The butler bowed with a sense of grace. Wally couldn't help but wonder if it was more from the weight of the burdens and sadness rather than a sense of duty. "Would you like some refreshments?"

"Uh... No thanks." Ignoring the hunger that was beginning to grow in the pit of his stomach had suddenly become easier with the sense of unease that filled him. "Um... what are you doing here? I- I mean-"

"It is a legitimate question, Master Wallace. This house is, as one may say, 'worse for wear.'" A tired smile appeared on Alfred's lips. "I do not think I'll have enough time to clean it, however. I am only here to accompany Miss Cassandra."

"Who's-"

The rest of Wally's question was lost as Superman interjected with his own. "What's she doing here, Alfred? You know-"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Kent, but it is _you_who is not allowed back into this household." There was no raise in pitch of his voice, nor any other signs of emotion save for the emphasis on a single word. "Master Bruce would not approve."

_(but Batman's here)_

Wally tried again. Ignoring the tension that was building, he asked, "Who's Cassandra?"

"Miss Cassandra is the second Batgirl that Master Wayne trained. The Justice League, however, refused to recognize her as-"

Green Arrow sent a glare at the butler. "She was trained to be an assassin. Christ, she should have gone to school at the very least when you found her!"

"Excuse my question, Mr. Queen, but is that what you would have done? Send a girl who lacks any social experience into the jungle they call schools nowadays?"

The hero's face turned red as he mumbled something.

"Master Bruce did his best during the time. Every single person in this household took it upon themselves to teach her something. It is better than pretending that she does not exist." Alfred's voice remained leveled as he spoke. Wally admired the anger that was kept hidden this whole time. "She is now able to enter into society and act in the appropriate manner."

"…Alfred? Is that you?" A girl's voice entered the conversation from the doorway. Her voice was soft, almost to the point where it had a calm effect on the room. Wally had enough experience to know the truth: there was a dark lace of danger within her voice, hiding behind her words. "Do we have… guests?"

The young woman that entered the room added to Wally's mental image. She was obviously Asian, Chinese at the best guess. There was also in a mix of Caucasian features that defined her. Her black hair was cut to be slightly longer than where her jawline was. It framed her face with the shadows of the city and her experience. She was about his height, her frame being graceful and dangerous with muscles hidden beneath the black cloth.

"It is simply the Justice League," Alfred said. There was no distain in his voice for the men he had just showered with his comments. "And Master Wallace as well."

She didn't say anything at first. Her dark eyes ran over each of the men in turn. A burning hatred was aimed towards the League members, covered by an emotionless mask. It was only when her eyes were on him that her gaze softened. Black eyes met emerald for a brief moment. A-

_(blessing)_

-look of approval was given before she finally tore her gaze away.

"Why are you here?"

Superman opened his mouth to answer, but was cut off with a sudden rush of darkness. Batman's cloak was only beginning to come to a rest when he started to talk.

"Who is in this picture?" Within a gloved hand was a picture frame. The dark face was filled with a sense of confusion and anger as his own gaze reverted back to the picture. It was only when the long, unnatural pause filled the room that he pulled his attention away from the frame. "Alfred?"

Another long pause took its place. Wally had thought that the butler was ignoring him on purpose, but the lack of any recognition for the voice created the creeping feeling from his gut.

"Well?" Earning himself a look of distaste from the butler, Oliver asked with annoyance, "Aren't you gonna answer his question?"

"And just _who_ would I be answering?"

_(never heard him he's invisible)_

Superman blinked at the response. His sky blue eyes shot a look at Batman, who appeared equally confused, before talking. "Bruce. He's-"

"Do not speak his name!" A sudden burst of emotion flew into Alfred's face.

"You… you can't see him?" Wally asked hesitantly. The fear was beginning to set down within his stomach, eating away at the silent barrier that had built up in him.

"I cannot see anything, either," Cassandra offered. "It… is all an illusion."

* * *

><p><strong>August 15, 11:22 PM<br>****Gotham City**

"You could see me." The words were only tainted with the deepness of his voice. There was nothing else that affected the sentence.

Cassandra did nothing to acknowledge the words at first. Her movements stayed fluid as she poured herself a cup of tea, her hands maintaining a steadiness that even Bruce could find himself envying. It was only when the kettle was placed back on the stove that she spoke. "Yet I cannot... cannot touch you. You should understand what that means."

The frown that could be seen with or without the cowl deepened. "I'm not a ghost."

"To the Justice League, you're... you can be seen and felt. You're a ghost to me." Her hands cradled the teacup gently, swirling the contents inside to draw her eyes away from Bruce. "Do you remember what happened?"

The questions were not meant to destroy his patience, and he knew it as a fact. As the answer had eluded him, the effects were opposite. His glove hand tightened into a fist before he could stop the action. The motion made him feel weak, as if someone else was pulling the strings of his life.

_(not a puppet)_

Cassandra caught the movement. Her attention being drawn away by her own movements seemed to not matter in the slightest. "You killed. You might not remember it, but you did. You can never fully forget." Her words paused themselves before washing over him again. "But you killed for a good reason."

A sickening sense filled Bruce, penetrating his steeled senses and contorting his mouth. Words rushed to his mouth from his mind in hopes of forming a defense. There was something wrong in the girl's words. Batman was a dark figure but he never killed. _Bruce_ had never killed. It would have destroyed his sense of justice and drive him to his own death. He would not kill for anything in the world.

_(really Brucie?)_

"I haven't killed anyone." The words were monotone and lifeless. There was no weight to the words in the air, destroying any hopes that his argument had some truth. The sickening feeling swept over the vigilante again. It managed to stay out of his facial features, content with gnawing the back of his head with a warm feeling of guilt. The words formed on his tongue, ready to repeat the phrase to allow himself to believe it. They refused to leave the illusion that he was constructing, however.

"You're lying to yourself."

He didn't argue the fact as his own words sounded like the lies that came from the criminals that littered Gotham's streets. It should have been a repulsing idea. But it wasn't.

Cassandra took a sip of tea, her eyes slipping close with the action. There was a sense of ease and understanding that radiated from her presence in the kitchen. It was mixed with her dissatisfaction of the situation, creating an odd balance within her. For a second, Bruce could remember the first cold fear that ran through him when he met her. There was something about her that reeked of killing. It did not taint her, instead choosing to surround her for eternity. It was painful to see, every so often, how it had captured her. She never made a show of how bad it was.

"How much can you tell me?" The question came out with a sense of interrogation, although both of them knew what it was really for.

"Nothing until you... fully awake?" Cassandra paused for a moment, her lips near the rim of the teacup. The pondering of the words could be seen in her eyes for a single second before she continued. "The Justice League is watching you."

"They'll go after you if they hear that."

An awkward half shrug that was unnatural to the girl's movements answered Bruce back. "I can escape."

"But I can't."

"Not until you get answers."

"And how am I supposed to get them?"

"The memories you're missing." Shock registered onto Bruce's face with a deepened scowl at Cassandra's words. She made no effort to recuperate the emotion. "If you had the memories, you wouldn't be... be against your own family."

Bruce struggled for the words, taking a second too long for Batman to maintain a facade of steadiness. "It's an illusion."

"Is that what the League told you?" The corners of her lips twitched as she spoke. "Only one of them attacks you."

The words sat with Bruce, sending his mind into toil. It wasn't that Cassandra knew more than she was telling-

_(deep into secrets trust her)_

-but rather what her statements implied. The word "attack" seemed to be the key to his pondering. The assassin-like figure had only spoken to him. There had been no physical harm done. It was a curious idea that made think about his earlier assumptions made afterwards. She had not attempted to harm him, going so far as to put herself at a disadvantage of position in order to avoid a physical confrontation.

"All of the... others remember. They love you."

_(I love them_

_what choices?_

_want to save)_

"How am I supposed to get my memories back?" There was no question of whether the girl knew or not. Her eyes had the answers hidden behind them, teasing the man with a glance of what they could possibly be. Even if she did not have all of the pieces, she had most of them.

"Tim's dad, maybe." Cassandra allowed the words to soak into the air, drinking more of her tea as they waited for time to pass. Bruce watched the movements meticulously. He could not be sure if it was because he was hoping for an explanation or if he missed the girl that much. "He's the final... piece to the killings."

A growl escaped his lips before he could stop it. "Final piece?"

_(no more lying Brucie)_

"You mean-"

"Final killing, yes." Her eyes slipped closed once again. "If you see him and do not... get your memories, you have chosen... better path. But you would lose your family."

"Tim never wanted him dead."

"But it did not go two ways."

A rush of rage came with the words as the meaning dawned on Bruce. He was foolish to believe that the elder Drake had taken to the idea of adoption so well. Despite the illusions that explained the emotions with a graceful ease, there was the shadow that they had all forgotten. It might have been pride or the fatherly instinct that failed to help Tim before. The identity did not matter: Tim Drake was killed with whatever outcome it was.

"Even if you do not find your answers, the man... will get justice." A small smile rose to her lips before the cup touched them. The time she took to take another sip of tea went with agonizing seconds. "His house is still the same."

Bruce was only able to offer her a nod of understanding. He wanted to say his thanks, but the words were caught within his throat. There was something about the phrase that stood against the image he had spent his life-

_(but I'm dead)_

-creating. Even in the confides of the kitchen of his own house, the barrier he had placed upon himself would not let him whisper any words of gratitude. It had never frustrated the man in the past as it was a necessity of surviving. But in that one moment, Bruce cursed his restrictions.

"Here." Cassandra glanced at her dwindling tea before holding the cup out. "It's supposed to… help sleep happen."

He accepted the cup with one hand, glancing at the contents before downing them with a single gulp. She had understood what he was unable to say with her usual fashion, leaving him free of everything but the guilt of not being able to say the words himself.

"With Martian Manhunter gone, the memories… could come back that way, too." She took the cup back. Her eyes flickered to see the empty china before she walked over to the sink. "He kept taking them away as a safeguard."

"Of course he did." There was a bitter lace to his voice. It explained why J'onn was targeted by the woman. Even if he had trusted the Martian-

_(J'onn)_

-he had to adapt to the situation.

"Go to sleep." A small hint of a smile stained the girl's lips. "They're waiting for you. And when you're ready, you'll… know where to go."

"Thank you."

By the time the words were out of his lips, it was too late: she was already gone.

* * *

><p><strong>October 31, 2:43 AM<br>****Gotham City**

_At best, his movements were jerky and unbalanced. He clung onto the railing that was at the edges of the cave for balance. His other arm kept the body that was on his good shoulder from moving. The smell of the earth came from the lifeless body, filling the cold air with it. As the man got closer to the giant computer console, he could smell the metallic blood and charred flesh mixing. The screen glowed with a dull light that filled the cavern. It made the room cold and distant from the tragedy that was unfolding before him. Even the pooling blood mixed with water on the metallic floor caught some of the light for reflection.  
><em>  
>(everything lost)<p>

_With a great struggle he bent his knees. His whole body seemed to collapse with the motion, allowing gravity to take him face-first into the floor. The body came down with him, finally being tossed off his shoulder at impact. The sound that followed filled the cave. It was a miserable sound with the lifeless attachment that it brought. It echoed in the shadows with a final admittance that sent the man scrambling to sit up._

(Tim)

_It was too much of a struggle for him to fully pick himself off of the floor. Instead, he used what remained of his strength to adjust the body. With a few pushes he aligned it next to the others that had accumulated during the night. The names of each one were on his parched lips, but there was nothing within him that allowed him to say them. He knew it was a finalizing piece of the horror if he did. At that moment-_

(maybe forever)

_-he couldn't find it within himself to say them._

_He leaned over the bodies, examining them with a careful eye. His cowl was pulled down, allowing the light to catch his full face as his blue eyes ran over each one of them with careful scrutiny._

_The first one was of his eldest son. There were bruises along his neck in a vague shape of two murderous hands. The rest of his skin was a mixture of the pale white of death and the tell-tale blue of asphyxiation. His adopted brother and lover was next to him, charred in some places passed the point of recognition. Next was a blonde girl. Her body was cold to the touch, yet there was an element of peace that she held. The water was still drying from the halo of long blonde hair. The redhead that lied next to her was not as lucky: there were cuts and bruises everywhere one looked. Some of her blood was still coming out of the wounds. The final addition was the youngest of the family. The earthly smell that accompanied him after being buried alive hours ago clung to him and the air around him with a sense of desperateness._

_It was only when the man looked down that he realized that he was still bleeding._

_Some part of his memory thought of the gunshots that accompanied his self-imposed mission of collecting his dead children. The adrenaline, fear, and a vague hope telling him that he wasn't too late-_

(what a lie)

_-kept him going past the need for sleep and care. His time was focused upon finding what remained of the bodies and to bring them back. It took hours, especially considering the time that it took him to dig his youngest son out of the earth. Sometime within that night, one of the shots hit his shoulder. He had been bleeding out ever since._

_His blue eyes flickered to the keyboard before his mind put down the notion. It was surely too late to save him. Even if there was time, he would not allow them to move him away from the bodies of his children. A self-imposed punishment seemed fitting._

_The man closed his eyes. When he tried to open them, he realized that the darkness was already getting to him. Images of the cave became blurry with the passing seconds. Looking down, he realized how much of his blood was coming out of his body at the moment. It was a miracle that he had stayed alive until then._

(Barbara Dick Jason Artemis Tim

I'm sorry

I love you)

_He collapsed for the last time in his life. With his closing eyes, he could see the images of the living that he was leaving behind._

_"Bruce!"_

_He could only hope that they would understand._

* * *

><p><strong>Next time: Muse!<strong>


	8. Muse

**You want to know something that I'm good at? Even better than my ability to get chapters out on a somewhat-timely manner? How much I can write! This chapter is 14k+ words long! (And it totally wasn't my intention for it to be this long, either. Just too many scenes, I guess...)**

**What's almost just as good is that this chapter has some interesting plot points that you've all wanted to know for quite some time. But will I answer all the questions?**

**I don't own Young Justice.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p><strong>August 16, 1:29 AM<br>****Gotham City  
><strong>"He will recover, Mother. " Cassandra' voice echoed throughout the cave. "He's already starting to remember."

"That is good." There was more that Muse wanted to say-

_(more than good perfect I want him back I _need_ him back)_

-but she kept the words to herself. She had a lot of experience with keeping things to herself: her life had been filled with words and emotions that remained hidden from the world. It was not always fulfilling, but it gave her an upper hand in many situations. The skill was too important for her to give up in death. "Where is he?"

"The Watchtower. He had to return with the others. He is not in… immediate danger as of yet, though. Dryad… followed him." There was no real hesitation in the girl's voice, only the soft pauses from her need to fish for words.

"Thank you, Cassandra. Watch over Alfred for us." Muse's dark eyes watched the retreating figure until the darkness fully engulfed her. Even then, the dull pulse of Cassandra's mind filled the cave with her calm presence.

_(my love)_

The darkness of the shadows embraced her. For a moment, whether from her memory or unnatural forces, she could smell her husband's scent. It was a mixture of steel, blood, and some other essence that never had a name, simply reeking of darkness. It was unique to him, never failing to remind her of the safety that he provided her.

The weight of the diamond ring on her finger pulled against her. Despite the damage done to the precious metal, she always found a way to return it to the state it was in when she received it. There was no love at the moment the rings were exchanged; only the need to help the children that surrounded the altar on their wedding day keeping them in character. Artemis had understood the fact immediately, her brothers quickly following the line of logic. They gave away nothing on the wedding day, happy with the fact that they were becoming a real family. No one was the wiser.

It was never part of their plan to fall in love. But they did with ease, letting the passing time guide them through the moments. There was no one moment where the world suddenly clicked into place. But slow realization gave meaning to the movements meant only for the public eye. Sleeping next to each other during the rare times that her husband allowed himself rest was natural. Loving the man for more than saving her daughter was normal.

She had fallen hard for Bruce Wayne. The man, in return, did the same.

* * *

><p><strong>August 16, 3:31 AM<br>****Gotham City  
><strong>Bruce's hands had already found a way to the other man's neck before the flood of memories fully drowned his parched brain. The motion felt incredibly normal for him. He attempted to recall if he had done such a thing before as the air slipped out of the man within his grasp.

There were no more questions about whether or not if Bruce Wayne was a killer. Somewhere in the animated corpse that now defined his existence, he had known that he was a killer. Nothing could deter the feeling. His lies were too easy to break. Denial faded as soon as it tried to enter his conscience. It had become ingrained in him. There was knowledge about the many ways to take a man's life alongside the understanding that he was already a killer.

_(amazing)_

"You killed him." The words were slow and definite, taking form as a deep growl from his throat. It was no longer a matter of keeping up the image of Batman; it was a matter of sheer rage. Tim had been killed by the man that should have been his father. Instead, the boy had grown in a house with little care. There were many nights where he was in tears, wishing for something that he would be denied for years to come.

Jack Drake's mouth moved as he tried to speak. The lack of air, however, made it impossible for him to voice his protests. His arms were flailing out of Bruce's sight. Once in a while the man would manage to land a blow on the once-vigilante. Bruce was never hurt by the attempts; he barely registered that they had connected with him at all. He would have chalked up the reasoning to adrenaline but-

_(impossible)_

-he knew there was something more to it. He was dead, after all, and if the facts had played out, he was no longer human.

_(what am I?_

monster demon angel undead

doesn't matter)

"You killed Tim because you couldn't stand the fact that he was doing fine without you. The pressure finally drove you to kill your son."

A scratchy gasp filled the air as the once-vigilante-

_(killer will always be a killer now)_

-lessened his hold on the man. The other, in turn, paused in his attempts to attack Bruce. There was still a burning rage that filled his eyes, but it made way for the sheer relief from the chance to breath. There was never a glimpse of remorse within the dimming irises.

"Well?" Bruce growled out. Sweat slipped from his forehead to the side of his face. He had kept the cowl off and allowed his identity to be exposed to the unlucky man. Within a few hours' worth of sleep, the cowl had become uncomfortable. It was not out of any physical changes; the cowl still fitted the man with experienced wear. The memories, however, reminded the man of how his reality had changed. How much could justice matter if it killed his family without a second thought?

"It's the same compulsion that killed the rest of us." The woman's voice floated through the air. "They all wanted us dead to one level. But the spell…"

_(Paula)_

"Paula-"

"Let me finish the job, love." He could hear the metal of a blade scrape against its sheath. "Just hold him there for me."

"No…" The man beneath Bruce's grip was shaking. The vibrations made Bruce's arm shake along with him. "No…"

"You killed one of my sons. If you are looking for sympathy, you will not find it from me."

There was a flash of metal caught in the moonlight. From the brief second, Bruce could see the silver metal, tainted in shadow and light. The hilt had been created to look like the Bat symbol the man had worn since taking upon the mantle. Before Bruce could observe more of the weapon, it sped past him and buried itself into Jack.

"Enjoy Hell," Paula whispered, straightening herself up. Her dark eyes seemed to become inflamed with the sight of blood pouring out of the other man. "You sick bastard."

Bruce released his grip, his own eyes drawn to the crimson liquid. Some of it was directly touching the silver blade, bubbling as it did. The majority of it slipped past the weapon and followed the contours of Drake's body before pooling on the floor.

"Paula-" The rest of the words were lodged in his throat. For a second, he was scared to turn his head and face the woman that he had married.

_(she's standing_

_I'm a monster)_

It was the gentle nudge from the Joker's voice-

_(you're all monsters now Brucie so what's stopping you?_

_go get her Brucie)_

-that allowed him to speak. "Paula, I'm sorry."

"There is nothing to be sorry for, Bruce." Her voice was calm, almost to the point of being flat. It was only the whispers and promises of her love that kept it alive. "You came back."

"I did," he agreed. For a second, he contemplated whether he should take her hand in his. It was a small gesture, but it was something that he missed from the memories that trickled back to him in the night. He remembered little things, like her calm voice and the warmth that they shared when sleeping next to each other. Back then, holding hands in the right moments just came naturally to them.

"It's okay to look at me, Bruce. I've missed you too." Her hand-

_(delicate yet strong steady)_

-slipped into his grip. "They took you from us."

The next words were the hardest for Bruce to say, but he knew that if he didn't say them that everything would be destroyed. There were truths that had guided him with little hesitance. It was what allowed him to listen to the Joker-like voice in his head. It gave him the lonely comfort when he realized that he couldn't trust the rest of the League. Now it was nudging the man towards the words.

"I'm still not sure."

The grip on his hand tightened comfortingly. "I know. It is hard for you."

"I do love you."

"I know." She paused for a second, allowing the words to wash over them both. Finally, she said, "One day. We'll have one day together."

"What do you mean?"

"Just one day for us to go around Gotham and explore the city. We'll be her guests for one day. The League won't miss you, would they?"

Bruce paused, considering the question. It might have seemed suspicious if Batman disappeared for a whole day. But the memory of the glares he received from the other members did more than enough to remind the once-vigilante how much the others cared for him. "No, I guess not."

"It'll only be a day, Bruce. I just… I've missed you."

He turned his head. Blue eyes met dark irises. The face of the woman that he loved while they had both been alive was still present. However, the creases made from countless nights of worrying had faded. Instead, it was her eyes that spoke of horrors of a different type. He could also see her love within her gaze. It had strengthened through the time separated.

"One day," he agreed. His own eyes fell back to the corpse-

_(monster_

_but why does it matter?)_

-that sat on the ground. "I owe you that much."

_(and so much more)_

* * *

><p><strong>5 years ago<br>****April 10, 4:20 PM  
><strong>**Gotham City  
><strong>_The blonde girl kept her eyes upon her mother, the gaze never wavering as she took a few bites out of her peanut butter sandwich. It was unusual, seeing the twelve-year-old so focused upon a single thing while eating. Paula knew that her daughter had inherited traits that made Tigress a once-feared villainess. Bruce had helped the girl hone her natural talents as well as train her in as many arts that he could in his spare time._

"_Mommy?" Artemis finally asked._

"_Yes, honey?"_

"_You love Daddy now, right?" The blonde girl was never one to cut corners with her questions. There had been several times where she had startled her elder brothers with her curiosity, going so far as to walk into their room while they were sharing a bed._

(at least Dick has gotten over Roy)

_Paula didn't allow any of her surprise to show through as she considered the question. Living with Gotham's billionaire had certainly changed since the wedding. While the couple never had any uneasy tension between them after their intentions were made clear, it was never like… this. There was no one word to describe the change. It just became _normal_ for the two. They enjoyed each other's company. They enjoyed lying against each other in bed, letting the shared warmth bring them to sleep._

_Somehow, they had fallen in love._

"_I guess I do." Paula contemplated whether it was a good idea or not to ask where Artemis got the idea from. She discarded the thought soon after; sometimes, it was best to let the idea slip away. _Especially_ concerning where Artemis got her ideas from._

"_Oh." The blonde girl took another bite of her sandwich, her thoughts mulling over as she chewed. "That's good."_

_A chuckle rose out of Paula. "I'm glad that you approve."_

"_You're happy. Of course I approve."_

_The woman paused at the words. Happy… It was not the word that she ever expected to be used to describe her. Her life had been a harsh one, never granting more than a few days of happiness. There was some element of constant worry that held her, no matter the moment. It fully got her when she was released from prison, finding that one daughter had run away and the other was living in a state of fear. Her chances at surviving with a normal life, at best, were slim._

_That was before Batman came. He offered her a chance of redemption and a way to save her youngest from Crock. She took the offer and remarried herself to Bruce Wayne. There was no love at the ceremony; instead, what held them at the altar was the promise of giving the children what they needed. Bruce Wayne, while being one of the richest people in Gotham, needed a mother figure for the three boys in his life. Paula needed someone with legal claim over Artemis in the event that Crock tried something. The arrangement suited them both well. With their acting, no one was the wiser._

(how things have changed)

"_I'm gonna play with Cass, Mom." Artemis hopped off of her chair, plate and glass in her hands. "Is that okay?"_

"_Of course." The current Batgirl was an interesting character. Only a year older than Artemis, she possessed more combat skills than even Jason had. At the same time, she lacked the communication capabilities that most children had. The children had already adopted her into the family and were working their hardest to offset the damage that Cain left. It would be years before anything could actually be said of progress. The likelihood of Cassandra ever having full communication skills was slim; if a developing mind did not find the need for a certain set of skills early on in life, the brain was likely to "prune" the area in order to make way for other things. They could only hope for the best._

_Paula watched the blonde girl bounce away. There was enough energy within the girl to tire out both of her elder brothers without any trouble. She could only imagine the terror that would happen if Tim ever decided to put down his books and join her._

"_Mom."_

_Jade's voice was startling to hear. The woman managed to keep her composure as she turned her wheelchair around to look at her oldest daughter. "Jade."_

"_She's right, you know." The teenager was clad in mostly green, the design from her clothes obviously coming from Eastern ideals. There were a few blades hidden within her clothing. Paula thought that she would have most likely missed them if it had not been for her own experience. There was no doubt that there was more hidden within her appearance. Jade's thick, black hair was messy, yet it was the only sign that said her daughter was unwell. "I'm glad everything worked out."_

"_Jade, please-"_

"_You know better than to ask me to come back, Mother." Her voice was cold and distant. "You know I can't. I only came to see you."_

(I know)

"_At least promise me that Crock has no hold on you."_

"_Please. I wouldn't let the old man get near me."_

_Paula closed her eyes, a swear escaping her lips. "How bad?"_

_Panic spread to the teenager's face before false confusion set in. "What are you-"_

"_Do not try to lie to me, Jade. I have dealt with the man. I am your mother, as well as a mother for several children now." The woman was tempted to cross her arms, but instead allowed them to remain on the armrests of her wheelchair." You cannot lie to me."_

"_Fine." A shaky sigh escaped Jade's lips. It took several seconds for the teenager to gather her thoughts and words before speaking. "Talia wants him dead, but her father thinks he's worth something." A growl slipped through her lips. "I try to avoid him as much as I can."_

_Paula opened her mouth to say something, but her husband's voice managed to beat her. "So, that means you're living with him now, correct?" He was standing right behind Paula, his entrance as quiet as the shadows. He was still in his business suit from his work day, any wariness from his day job disappearing as he spoke._

_Jade withdrew two of her _sai_, her eyes wary yet trained on the billionaire. "What does it matter to you? You're only –"_

"_Talia wouldn't object if you lived in a different place, as long as it's in the same vicinity. That isn't too hard to procure." From the pocket of his suit jacket, Bruce pulled out a small handful of keys. With a striking ease his gaze hovered over them, a cold glance passing over each of them in turn. It was seconds before he pulled out one from the pile. There wasn't enough time for the shock to fully register on Jade's face; by the time it had fully settled in, the rest of the keys were returned to the pocket. "This place is in the building next to what was once Olympia. It shouldn't make the others question you too much about how you got the place or why."_

(Bruce

thank you)

_A flicker of confusion reached the teenager's face before it was set to resentment. "Why are you helping?"_

"_Because you need it." Bruce kept a leveled stare with the girl. "I rather you live there than with Crock. There's a reason why Talia doesn't like him."_

"_Take the key, Jade. If you're not going to leave that life, at least let me know that you're relatively safe," Paula pleaded._

_It didn't take long for Jade to debate between her two choices. She slipped her weapons back into her sash, then extending her left hand. Bruce tossed the key lightly and with precision. The small piece of metal landed in the middle of her palm._

"_Do not expect me to grant you any favors." With that, she bounded towards the open window and disappeared to the grounds below._

_Bruce's eyes remained trained onto the spot. "Does she visit often?"_

"_This is the first time since the wedding. I was afraid I had lost her completely," Paula admitted. "Thank you, Bruce."_

"_I wish I could do more." The man sighed softly._

"_You're doing more than I would have expected." Paula lifted her hand, placing it on Bruce's. He managed to hide most of the roughness that came from crime fighting and patrolling, but there were times where she was sure that it was easy to feel. "Most people would have chased her out of the house."_

_A gruff chuckle escaped the billionaire. "Not my style. I take in kids, remember?"_

"_And we all love you for it."_

"_It has also brought me a wonderful wife," Bruce said. There was a soft smile on his lips when he leaned over to kiss Paula on the cheek. "I do what I can."_

(and how much you have done)

* * *

><p><strong>August 16, 4:02 PM<br>****Gotham City  
><strong>"Hush little baby, don't you cry."

Siren held the baby carefully against the chill of the caverns. The blanket that currently enveloped the child was thick and soft. The light cream color worked as a contrast to the teenager's black leather jumpsuit. The blonde was sitting in a rocking chair, tilting it back and forth with her left foot in a gentle rhythm. They were both bathed in the light of the large computer monitor. The volume was turned low, yet the voices from the screen echoed in the cave.

"_No, I had nothing to do with it!"_

"_M'gann-"_

"_No! NO!"_

"Auntie will make sure that your daddy dies."

Siren kept her full attention on the child in her arms. Her blues eyes only flickered once or twice as she registered the screams from the scene playing out on the monitor.

"_Why didn't you tell us?"_

"_You don't understand! I'm outcast as a _monster_-"_

"_Because you are one!"_

The blonde tilted the baby's head away from the screen when the green archer began to yell at the Martian.

"Because your mommy loved you more."

"_No! No! I'm not-"_

"_How much did you leak about us? How many lives did you put in danger?"_

"_No… I would never… Where's my uncle?"_

"And daddy was just a little whore."

"_He's gone because of you!"_

"_No… no, you're lying… NO!"_

Footsteps that echoed through the dark walls announced Kaldur's arrival. He was careful to be quiet, allowing for the voices from the Justice League to fill the air rather than his footsteps. He placed a hand on the chair. The material of his new suit squelched with the movement. "How is Lian?"

"Sleeping." Siren diverted her attention from her niece to the screen. M'gann could clearly be seen being berated while the other members of the League surrounded her. She appeared oblivious to their movement, suffering from her own grief. Wally stood off to the side. His emerald eyes were caught between turning away and watching the tragedy play out in front of him. "Can you turn the volume down?"

Kaldur didn't offer a verbal answer. Instead, he simply leaned forward and pressed a key on the keyboard underneath the monitor. Almost instantly, silence filled the space. It was just in time; there was obvious screaming coming from the Martian's mouth as the League tried to contain her. "It was wise to hold me back. If I was caught with her…"

"If you want to be a spy, you should know that having suspicion on yourself isn't the best way to get things done." The teenage girl adjusted the weight in her arms. "It's better for M'gann this way, too. There's no one to buffer the pain."

"She does not see it that way."

"It's okay if she doesn't. I'm not expecting miracles here."

Sylph's voice entered the conversation without any prompt. "Only Nymph is at this point."

"Sylph," Siren acknowledged, barely looking up to greet her brother's gaze. "Shouldn't you be with Pyroead?"

"I called the next shift for babysitting." She heard the smirk on the eldest child before she saw it. His blue eyes flickered to the screen. "So they're really putting her in the special cell, huh? I can't say that I'm surprised, but seriously. We've had her for a month. You would think they would be a bit nicer."

"It has been a month of fear for them. I think they are acting out from that," Kaldur muttered. "Although, I believe they would have acted just as badly without the anger."

"Probably." Siren lifted Lian up, watching as her eldest brother take the child into his arms with care. Part of her couldn't help but remember the wave of emotions that filled her when Sylph came back with the baby. Her first instinct was rage, wanting to avenge her sister and literally tear Roy Harper apart. It was only when everyone spent hours reminding her of the plan that she conceded. Even then, there was an unsettling feeling at the pit of her stomach. The next thing to assault her psyche was the need to protect her niece. She was scared to know what would have happened if Roy was left with Lian.

_(monster whore killer murderer)_

"Poor kid. Born into the middle of this," Sylph muttered. He drew the bundle closer to his chest. "You two can share the rocking chair. I'm gonna bring her to Mom." Without anything else, he was gone.

Siren unceremoniously stood up, gesturing for Kaldur to take the seat. He did without a word. It was after she settled on his lap, her head resting on the crook of his next, that he spoke. "I think I will miss this most of all."

"He says this before he even has sex with the girl," Siren muttered, humor lacing her voice. "Wonders will never cease."

The Atlantean did not react to her words. One of his hands found its way to her back, using his fingers to rake through her hair. "I can understand why your mother wants Batman back."

"Not Batman," Siren corrected. "Batman was the man that loved Paula Crock. The man who will love Muse-"

"Is Lampads. I apologize." A brief smile played upon Kaldur's lips. "Still, it is at least someone."

"Not everyone has that someone." Siren closed her eyes for a moment, the remains of the lullaby still playing in her head. She parted her lips slightly, watching traces of her fogged breath hit the Atlantean's neck as she sang in hushed tones. "Hush little baby, don't you cry/ Auntie will make sure that your daddy dies/ Because your mommy loved you more."

_(Jade we'll watch over her)_

"And daddy was just a little whore."

* * *

><p><strong>3 Years Ago<br>****September 8, 4:27 AM  
><strong>**Gotham City  
><strong>"_How bad is it, Bruce?" Paula asked softly. The light from the giant monitor of the main computer filled the shadows with a pale light, flickering with the images on the screen. "Jason said it was bad."_

"_It's always bad," Bruce muttered back. His hands were folded and his head was resting on top of them. His blue eyes moved with the text and images. He was going at an inhuman speed, processing the data in his mind just as fast. "The Justice League is not for children."_

"_It sounds like it's full of children," she countered back. "They pick on you all the time, Bruce. Do not tell me to back off."_

(too often)

"_It wasn't me this time."_

_The echo filled the cave as Paula digested the words. She could feel herself shaking in her wheelchair, not from the cold but rather the implications. She had once been a villainess. Now she watched her husband and children go into the night to save lives. She had been in the business too long to let the meaning of the words go over her head. "Jason or Cassandra?"_

"_Cassandra. They won't even recognize her as Batgirl in any of the official documents. It's almost as if she never existed."_

"_Because they are scared." Paula frowned. "I wish there was more we could do."_

"_They're stubborn. Everything that could have changed their minds didn't. I'm not expecting much of a miracle anymore."_

"_There is something else, then. You wouldn't be dwelling on something that has been going on for years," Paula said. "How bad is it there, Bruce? Really."_

_If Bruce had his cowl on, he would have pulled it down on instinct. Instead, since it was already down, his hand came up halfway to his face before he stopped himself. The frown on his face deepened. "Bad. The tension gets thicker every day."_

"_Because they are children."_

"_It was bad enough with Dick and Barbara," Bruce admitted. "Those two won over everyone with their personalities. They also had years of training in acrobats and gymnastics. But with Jason and Cassandra…"_

"_They think one's a hot head and the other is too well trained in the ways of the Assassins'. Either one is dangerous." When her husband raised an eyebrow, Paula gave a small smile. "They are my children, Bruce, but even I see their shortcomings. If I'm to help them survive, I need to know."_

_The man gave a tired nod in return. "They're starting to rethink the idea of sidekicks. They think it's too dangerous."_

"_Dangerous." The word felt heavy on her tongue. It was a word she was very familiar with, yet not in the same sense that most of the Justice League used to define it. "Dangerous is what Jason's life would have been if he was left for the streets. Dangerous is when Cassandra has no one to turn to _but_ her father. Dangerous is when-"_

"_I wish I could bring you up there." A mirthless chuckle escaped the man. "Between you and Alfred, they wouldn't stand a chance."_

"_It would be a massacre, Bruce."_

"_Hm." He unfolded his hands. "What's worse is that Kent is growing tired. Not that he shouldn't-"_

"_Kent Nelson. Dr. Fate's vessel?" Paula recognized the name from the files her husband stored. It wasn't a name that was brought up often in conversation as the Lord of Order rarely allowed himself to be seen anymore. "I am not surprised. Fate is keeping the man from a peaceful rest."_

"_Nelson is supposedly bound to Nabu. Either he finds the spirit a new host or the magic releases its hold on him in a magical hiccup." Bruce's faces grimaced at the words, dislike and discomfort dictating the motion._

"_I already feel sorry for the next vessel," Paula said._

(such a force yet such a horrible being)

* * *

><p><strong>August 16, 9:10 PM<br>****Happy Harbor  
><strong>Wally sat on the couch, his thoughts dictating his quiet mood. The golden helmet-

_(stupid thing trying to get into my dreams)_

-sat on the table opposite of him. The light reflecting off of the polished surface gleamed with an unnatural glow. If the redhead had believed in magic-

_(no scientific explanation_

_but the others Dick Batman_

_can't really believe in it can I?)_

-he would have said the thing was actually _calling_ to him. There were very few other words he could have used to describe the feeling. It was unpleasant. When Nymph had used her powers to trap them during Independence Day, she had a way to make the moment calm. It was even nice because it wasn't unpleasant. The feeling that the Helm of Fate gave him was demanding the teenager to take it in his hands and wear it. Despite everything he knew about the consequences, it was so _tempting._

_(I can't I won't_

_right?)_

"Why do you let it sit there if it's… uncomfortable?" Cassandra's voice was soft. In the cave, it was almost as if she were a part of the walls that surrounded the living space. Instead it was just her head was hovering over his figure. Her eyes were focused on the helmet.

"I have no idea what to do with it," the speedster admitted. "I brought it home after Nymph got us. I figured no one would look for it there. I kinda wished I left it here instead."

"And we would have lost it forever." She lifted her form, her gaze never breaking. "They want revenge, but in order to… obtain it, they need the person… the _thing_ that started it."

"What? Wouldn't they be able to find it themselves?" Curiosity tore through Wally. From what he knew of the former vigilantes and their powers, it was hard to believe that something like a helmet could elude them.

"The Helm of Fate is…"

_(magic)_

"Different," Wally muttered. "Wait, does that mean…"

Cassandra shook her head at the anticipated question. "They could have defeated Fate. It's just a… matter of how."

"Then what's stopping them?"

"A fight that is not their own."

The words sat in the teenager's head. They were cryptic at best, requiring time and experience to give them meaning. Yet at the same time the words were clear: there was a grand chess master to the mess. While the vigilantes' destruction could have been-

_(probably their own choice)_

-their own ideas becoming reality, there was some force overseeing it all. In many ways, it was the clearest answer Wally had gotten from someone through the whole ordeal.

"Did the Justice League know about it?"

The Asian girl-

_(maybe a bit older than me_

_so young)_

-seemed unconcerned about providing him with the information that he had continuously been denied. She whispered, "They knew about a price. When they found out how high it went, they… pretended it was worth it. Then they denied… the events. They said it was all worth it."

"Even my uncle?" The words fell off of his tongue softly. It was an uneasy question that hit the teenager hard. He could have denied the possibility; Wally knew Barry enough to say with some confidence that his uncle would not have willingly been a part of the events. But the logic brought facts to pile up against the man. It was becoming impossible to believe he played no part in it.

"I cannot say."

"Then _who_ can tell me? He won't!"

Cassandra paused for a moment. Her eyes went dark with a weight that Wally could not see nor understand. "There is a… way. But you must trust them."

"Them."

_(them)_

"They are not sure who condemned them. Beyond… actions, they can only deduce. For a final judgment…"

"They would need to know who really is guilty," Wally finished. A frown made its way to his lips, tugging the corners with both logic and emotion. "Which one? Is Nymph going to do damage to his mind if she tries to read it?"

A soft, easy smile took the girl's face. "Muse will do the extraction."

_(she got Martian Manhunter_

_no)_

"Are you _kidding_ me? She made Martian Manhunter _insane!_ And you think I'll trust her near my uncle?" His emerald eyes flickered with anger. Unconsciously, his hands balled into fists.

Cassandra didn't react to the impending threat. "We need someone who was there when they made the… choice. Martian Manhunter has hidden his memory. Superman is too far. You have easy access to Flash."

_(so true_

_he'll be hurt I'll have answers_

_is it worth it?)_

"I-" Wally's voice faltered. The words that he was trying to find were scattering in the wake of his confusion. He wanted answers. It was an undeniable truth that he had grown sick of the way the other heroes were treating him. The League had alienated all of the teenagers. The enemies, on the other hand, were giving him the information that he craved. It was unnerving, to say the least.

At the same time, it was his uncle's safety that was at stake. Wally wasn't expecting that the answers he would find to be equivalent to compromising a man who was almost a father to him. Was he really willing to compromise the man's safety for information?

"I… How about Green Arrow?" The words finally left his mouth in a rush. "He was there, wasn't he?"

"His security is a problem."

_(no not Uncle Barry just not him_

_Roy)_

"If- If I could get Roy, would they be able to do something?" A flare of anger came with the name, but the redhead ignored it. The information might not have been worth his uncle, but it did not satisfy the craving need in him. The plan that was forming in his head was helping him find an alternate path to get what he longed for.

"Maybe," Cassandra admitted. "But we just want-"

"To extract information. I know," Wally said with a small nod. "But there's something I have to do too."

* * *

><p><strong>August 16, 10:29 PM<br>****Gotham City  
><strong>"Would you kill me if I stayed on the League's side?"

The question hung over the food with a haunting persistence. Bruce watched the woman on the other side of the table, her eyes glazed over with thought. Her fingers paused on the flute of campaign that sat near her plate. For a second, he thought that he might have brought on her wrath; she was the type to quietly wait before striking. He opened his mouth to explain, but she cut him short.

"Not kill you," she finally whispered, careful with her words. "I cannot disagree with the fact that we should be stopped for the good of the many. We've killed a lot of people, Bruce."

"How many?"

"You have to be more specific, Bruce." She turned her gaze to the window. They were sitting in a private room of a fancy restaurant, left undisturbed except for the few moments where the waiter came in bringing food. Paula had used her powers-

_(why do we have them can't remember want to remember)_

-to project what she described as a glamour spell. Neither of them were recognizable to the public. No one even noticed that Bruce Wayne was wearing Batman's costume. He had walked around in it until he found some suitable clothes in the remains of the manor. They had spent the day exploring what remained of the gothic city. Between the empty lots and high class establishments that managed to survive the turbulent times, it was almost as if nothing had changed.

"When I was gone," he said softly.

Paula frowned. "That was when it was worst. The curse had its strongest hold then. It was only luck that allowed us to take it upon ourselves-"

"How many?" The question was almost growled out.

"A few dozen. We kept it to mostly criminals, but sometimes…" She paused. Her eyes darted once to his chest where the famous symbol would be if he were wearing his costume. "Sometimes it wasn't enough."

"But you fought it."

"It's natural to fight off something like that, Bruce. We were particularly lucky around the summer solstice. Dry-" She paused, collecting herself before continuing. "Tim mentioned something about a cycle that spells had to keep."

"It makes sense. Most magic is based around cycles, assuming that it doesn't manage to kill the person first," he reasoned. He picked up his own flute, watching the bubbles before taking a sip. "But solstice only weakens in this case."

"We had to work fast. I wanted my children."

"Was there no one you could contact?"

"You've seen how they react, Bruce. I knew that things in the League had always been rocky, but this…" Paula sighed softly. "I wasn't expecting this."

"No one ever does," Bruce said. A few seconds slipped between them before he spoke again. "I can't go against them. Not like this."

"You're memories will come back in time, Bruce. You have most of them as of now." The woman paused. "I would love to undo what J'onn did. But… I just worry for your safety."

"How about my powers? Did they disappear?" It was an odd question. Batman had prided himself with his lack of powers. If anything, he was direct proof that not everyone needed a protector with a superhuman ability. Human abilities, reformed and focused to be at top condition, were sufficient enough. Despite this, there was something in the man that _missed_ the sheer amount of power at his fingertips. Without them, he could defeat the League. With them, he could force them to bow at his feet and beg for forgiveness for what they did to his family.

"They're always within your reach, love. You just have to try harder." She picked up her glass, holding it in front of her face. "Break it."

"Paula-"

"You want to know what's in this glass, Bruce? It's not champagne. It's the poison that _Fate _killed me with. He laughed at me, love. He thought that he was going to win. He thought that he could kill your children and your wife-"

The rest of the words were lost to the glass shattering in her hands. The shadows that clung to the edges withdrew onto Paula's arm. It was a mass of darkness, as flat and cold as the other shadows of the room. With another second, it joined the natural shadows on her arm. It was as if it was never there to begin with.

Both pairs of eyes were focused on the mass of shadow until it disappeared. Then their gazes met. Paula's eyes were filled with what Bruce could only describe as adoration mixing with the love that had been present in them all day.

"Remember, Lampads? This is what you were fighting for."

* * *

><p><strong>October 31, 2:54 AM<br>****Gotham City  
><strong>_They were all dead. All of her children were laid out before her, cold and lifeless. Bruce was off to the side, the warm blood cooling in the air of the caverns. She had hoped that there was a chance, even a small one, to save her husband. But it was obvious that all chances were gone; Batman had gone the same way as her children did._

(they're gone all dead poor Paula all alone)

"_No." The word came out more as a whimper than a scream. It had been minutes since the realization had hit her. It was only at that moment that the logic broke her down. It was then that an emotional floodgate broke and brought tears to her eyes._

(because now there's no hope)

_Cassandra was in a different part of the world, set out to complete a mission Bruce had given her over a week ago. Alfred-_

(bless that man shouldn't see would break his heart)

_-was upstairs in the manor, going to bed early in an unusual bout of sleepiness. If Paula had her way, the elder man would never see his ward and grandchildren dead._

_She realized that she held a death grip over the handle of her wheelchair. With small, adrenaline-filled breaths, she released her hold. There was very little that she was able to do with her handicap, but she was determined to get as much done as she could. With any luck, her determination would pull her through._

"_Do not bother."_

(I know that voice

Kent no not Kent Nelson

Fate)

_Hatred flashed in her dark eyes as she turned to look at the hero. "Where have you been this whole night? Do you know how many times one of us called the League for help?"_

"_You shouldn't have done that. It's better to allow fate to play out the way it should." Doctor Fate was hovering over the railing that separated the computer from the rest of the shadows. In the darkness, his gold adornments had a soft glow. There were also the faint remains of his powers engulfing him with a dim light. "If fate needed to intervene, then-"_

"_Bullshit."_

"_Excuse me?"_

"_You left them to _die._ Don't pretend that you couldn't have stepped in. Any of you could have saved them." The venom in her voice gave enough hatred for the soft words. "You allowed my family to die."_

_His gaze was unwavering. She hadn't expected much else from the magician. Even the answers that she wanted were not to be given by his posture._

"_It was fate," he said in a definite voice._

"_Then at least tell me why."_

(I need to know need to get revenge need to end it)

"_It is not a matter you mortals can comprehend."_

"_Try me," she challenged. "I've been next to my husband through the hardest crises that the League has faced. I've lived in Gotham-" Paula stopped herself mid-sentence, noticing how the other man flinched at the city's name._

(interesting)

"_Well?" she finally asked. With all of the effort she could supply at the moment, she managed to keep her voice at a calm level. "Why did my family die?"_

"_They were in the way."_

"_Of what?"_

_A genuine pause stalled the conversation for a moment. It was as if Doctor Fate was at a loss for words, torn between finishing his answer and the implications of what would happen if he did. It was moments before he finally spoke again. "I'm afraid I've said too much."_

"_Too much? _Too much?_ My family is dead, Fate. If you think there is an explanation to justify this, then I want to hear it." Rage laced the ex-villainess's tongue as she spoke._

"_Nothing can justify these things to a mother," Fate admitted. For a second, Paula thought she could hear Nelson's voice through Fate's words. There was patience in the tone as well as-_

(self-loathing Kent you poor man)

_-anger. It was gone by the next sentence. "This is why you must die as well."_

"_What-" She launched herself from her wheelchair out of raw emotion. The floor waited for her impact, ringing with a metallic sound as she did. It filled the caves with the sharp noise. It was when she registered the cold metal that she became aware of the pricking feeling that touched her arm._

(no)

"_The chemical is fast acting. You will be dead in minutes." Fate turned away from the woman, his gaze resting upon the shadows of the cave. "I am sorry."_

_Thoughts flew through Paula's head. The connections were drawn up instantly. "You didn't just allow them to die. You _killed_ them._

"_It was the only way." Without any parting words, the man disappeared._

"_Bastard," Paula muttered. She made no effort to try and move towards the computer console; she could find no reason of wanting to escape her death. Revenge and rage gave way to the overwhelming sadness that sat in her since the beginning of the night. She had been asleep while her husband came back with each of the corpses. It was only the nightmare that filled her dreams that woke her up and brought her to the cave. She had seen the corpses, and with the vaguest of hopes went to see if they were alive._

_But they were all dead. Even her husband was gone from her._

(I'll join you we'll get them back one day

but rest my family)

**(rest my child rest)**

_Paula's eyes fluttered close._

* * *

><p><strong>August 21, 3:45 AM<br>****Star City  
><strong>The street lights were beginning to disappear in the presence of the ones that followed the large fence. They provided enough light to mistaken the time of day in the middle of the night. Emerald eyes flashed as the teenager kept his grip on the other redhead's neck. He hated-

_(used to love)_

-being carried through the lavish house, but for once he managed to keep his protests to himself. The chest he was pressed against was warm. Once in a while, he could feel the other man's heart beat drumming against him. It made him tense against the other.

"What's wrong, baby?" Roy's words were slightly slurred. The alcohol on his breath showered onto Wally. The teenager had to remind himself to keep calm. At the very least, he had to remain calm. Roy would do the rest.

"Oh, I was just thinking," the speedster said. There was no emotion in his words, but it was enough for the drunken archer. Wally waited another moment before asking, "Does Ollie have magic barriers or something around the house?"

"Huh?" Roy turned his gaze from the approaching gate to the teenager.

"You-"

_(lie he won't notice never does)_

"-mentioned it earlier."

After a hesitant, almost clear moment of thought, Roy's eyes returned to a drunken haze. "Yeah. One of those ones where… where the people in the house… have to invite the other person in."

_(too perfect)_

"Just wondering, baby." Wally blinked once, trying to accept his actions. He was using Roy to expose Green Arrow to dangerous enemies. He knew what was happening, and he could stop it. It was so easy to not go through with the plan. He could call up the League right from the house and tell them everything.

_(Roy used me Justice League could be killers_

_it's only one night reverse roles_

_I'll get answers)_

"I love you, Roy." His words came out in barely a whisper. There was no compelling reason for him to say them; they just happened to slip out of his mouth. If it had been months ago, maybe he would have believed it was because the archer would say the same thing back.

_(and maybe mean it)_

"You want to get invited in?" Roy muttered into his ear. "Because as long as I'm invited-"

"Just get on with it," Wally growled back in return. He could feel anger rising in him, impatience slipping in as well.

Roy snorted. "Someone's just _begging_ for it. Don't worry, baby. I'll satisfy you."

_(and I thought that you loved me)_

* * *

><p><strong>November 10, 3:05 PM<br>****Tower of Fate, coordinates unknown  
><strong>_Kent Nelson stared at the ashes on the table. It had been his fifth time trying to write his confession, yet like the previous times the pages were burned the second he turned his attention away from them. All that remained of any of the papers were the ashes._

"_Nabu, have you not realized what you have done?" he muttered softly. There was nothing that responded to the man. The cold stone of the interior of the room seemed indifferent to his predicament, as were the pieces of furniture that he had come into possession of in one way or another. _

_Despite this, he continued. "I don't know why you want to do this. But is it really worth killing?"_

(to him everything is justified)

"_I can accept you keeping me from death. I can accept that I may never die and rejoin Inza because you want a host. I even allowed myself to wear the Helm after years of retirement! But this…" The rest of the words died in his throat. His sudden anger simmered at the thought of what had happened over a week ago._

(guilt my fault why did I wear the Helm)

"_That spell of yours killed a family, Nabu. They were a good family too." A shaky sigh escaped his lips. "I can't let you finish this. Even if it means staying in this tower forever."_

(suicide no longer an option)

"_As long as I'm here, I will prevent you from escaping. You will not complete your work." With a shake of his head, Kent began to walk towards the doorway. He knew the spirit of the Helm could hear him, no matter where he was in the building._

_It was only when he turned back to look at the ashes that he added, "Whatever brought them back as killers must be a blessing in disguise. They'll be going after you one day."_

(so sorry Bruce so sorry)

* * *

><p><strong>August 21, 6:49 AM<br>****Star City  
><strong>Wally didn't draw his eyes away from Oliver Queen, even when the man was screaming. The fear contorted his face into a horrible appearance. It was in the eyes that the teenager could clearly see all of the emotions-

_(fear anger helpless confused)_

- that overtook the man. Still, Wally kept his gaze steady on the man.

Cassandra stood next to him. When Wally had left Roy's room, she had hesitantly placed an arm around his shoulders. The warm weight of her arm was a small comfort in the cold mansion. She had kept close to him as they walked through the dark hallways. The shadows had whispered to the duo as they passed by, chilling Wally as he realized what he was about to do.

"Hello, Oliver." Muse's voice floated over the two teenagers. Her dark eyes were filled with a subtle glow, dancing as they gazed over the man. "It's been a while."

The man's blue eyes widen in recognition of the woman. His anger shrank back, the barest traces remaining afterwards. Wally sympathized with the blond; the presence of Muse seemed to threaten everyone without any implications of how.

"I just want your memories, Ollie. We can talk about your punishment later." The smile on the woman's face was almost genuine, save for the gleam in her eyes. The hatred she had accumulated had gathered in the dark irises. For a fleeting second, Wally could see the caring mother that was in Batman's picture. That woman wasn't insane from grief and pain. That woman was happy, surrounded by her loved ones even in the darkest night. She would have done anything to protect them from the forces of evil.

The image was gone within the next moment.

Muse closed her eyes, her fingertips coming to rest on the millionaire's temples. Oliver looked as if he was trying to fight the motion before his face was overcome with false calmness. It reminded the teenager of the events that happened on Independence Day: Nymph's voice whispering commands to him in a soothing voice, never once hinting at the darkness of the situation. He suspected Muse's powers to work in similar ways.

"Can I ask a question?" he whispered softly, careful not to destroy the atmosphere that had settled into the room.

"Yes?" Cassandra kept her gaze upon the woman. "What is it?"

"What's going to happen afterwards? I mean… will they die again after they get their revenge?"

Her blue eyes narrowed for a second as her mind turned over the question. Wally could see the Asian girl struggling to find the words. There were a few brief flashes of emotions on her face, dancing against the shadows that clung to her.

It took Cassandra a minute to finally supply an answer. "They don't know what to do. They… want to believe in a future."

"But they don't know."

_(confused as we are)_

The rest of the time was spent in silence. Both of their gazes fell back to Muse, watching the still form glow with an unseen power. Oliver-

_(doesn't know that she's most powerful of them all can bend reality if she wanted to)_

-was forced still by the woman's powers. Once in a while he would blink back the empty gaze, only to have any emotion quickly replaced with hollow calmness. Any other signs that the man was alive were drowned out by Muse's hold over him.

"Ah," Muse said after several minutes passed by. She lowered her hands slowly. Her dark eyes opened, some of the hatred dissolving as Oliver was placed onto the ground. "Nabu lied to them. But one of Oracle's messages got through. They knew what our fates would be if they did not come and interfere."

"Then why didn't they?" Wally's voice was quiet, devoid of any sense of emotion.

"The 'greater good.'"

The words struck the speedster with the force of cinderblocks. "No."

"Wally?" Cassandra asked hesitantly.

"No no no nonono-"

_("he will always think it's for the greater good"_

_no_

"_don't believe him")_

"Kent Nelson." There were tears staining the edges of his eyes. It was not the first time he had cried since the night had fallen. However, the pain that the memory brought up was fresher than anything else. "When… when I got the Helm. He said 'Never let the League get ahold of it.' And… and…"

"The 'greater good,'" Muse finished. She spared Oliver another glance before closing her eyes.

_(my answers)_

"Kent was never able to warn the others," the woman began. Her voice was devoid of emotion. "Maybe he didn't know how far Nabu would go on his own. But he wore the Helm one last time. It was during a mission late last October. In some ways, Nelson had no choice. The battle was brutal, and very few of the League members had the right type of magic to stop the enemy. Doctor Fate was one of them.

"It was afterwards that Fate cast his spell. He lied to the League about what it was for. All that the others knew was that the spell involved Gotham in some way. They were suspicious for a bit when Batman didn't respond to his communicator. They didn't really think much of it; my husband often shut his communicator off when he was working on his own case. It was only when one of Oracle's messages got through that they knew. But they lied to themselves."

"And pretended it never happened," Wally muttered. "How much of it was their fault?"

"There are… some events that are their fault," Cassandra said.

Muse nodded once in agreement. "As Lampads, my husband confronted them. What remorse they had was twisted. What little emotions that _we_ had were twisted."

"And you killed people." The redhead's hushed words sat in the room with a heavy weight. "That's why they stopped you."

_(but does it make it right?)_

The woman leaned forward. At first, Wally was scared at what she would do to him. He knew what her powers were and that he had no chance of standing up to her. Even if he started to run away, he couldn't beat her. But the fears fell away as she took his left hand into hers. Her cold fingers ran across his palm slowly. In the next instance, a small folded piece of paper appeared. "If you decide to, bring this to my husband," she muttered before straightening up.

"Cassandra, bring Wallace back home. I'll deal with Oliver myself." Muse opened her eyes. The dark irises withheld the hints of confusion that came from viewing Oliver's memories. "And Wallace, remember. If you do nothing else, remember this."

_(how can I forget?)_

* * *

><p><strong>August 23, 4:30 PM<br>****Gotham City  
><strong>Bruce looked at the aging butler. Even without his powers, he could tell that the man was dying. At best, Alfred had half a year to live. It was amazing that the man was able to uphold his strength in public.

_(can he see me now?)_

His wife's reasoning had made sense. Alfred had never once recognized them in their post-mortem existence. It was as if their presence didn't register in the butler's senses. It was a mercy, as it spared the man some pain from seeing the family he had loved covered in the blood of their victims. The man was one of the first people to impart wisdom and morals onto Bruce as a child. What would he say to the family if he saw?

_(better this way always better)_

His voice got ahead of him.

"Alfred, I'm sorry." The words slipped out with little thought. The younger man paused. The logic that he trusted told him that speaking to his mentor, no matter how sure he was that the other could not hear him, was risky. But it was his heart that won. He had already lost so much. A chance at peace was too good to pass up.

"If I hadn't failed everyone that night, everything would still be okay. We would all still be living in the manor. Everyone would grow up. Down the line, someone would have had kids and made you a great-grandparent.

"But I messed up. I wasn't able to save them, Alfred. Every time I thought I would get there in time… I was too _fucking_ late. I just kept bringing back corpses. And when I died… I couldn't even protect Paula. The one time where it counted the most… I messed it up." Bruce sighed softly, his head shaking with the weight of the responsibility.

"Never say that, Master Bruce."

The once-vigilante's blue eyes shot open at the words. Alfred's tired but constant gaze had approval within the man's irises. His body, which had grown weak with fatigue and the sickness that was plaguing him, seemed to be full of a spark of life that rarely showed itself to the world.

_(can see me hear me)_

"I never expected things to be like this while being so close to death." The elder's man voice never faltered, although it was considerably weaker to what it had been less than a year ago. "I never did think I would see you again in this world, Master Bruce."

"You're… you're not panicking." The sentence sounded lame in his ears, but there was little else that Bruce would allow himself to say. It was painful to know that the man could see him in this form. The blood of those he had killed had melded into his appearance, always there no matter what he did to rid himself of the feeling. There was no question that he was a killer.

"Miss Cassandra has explained everything to me. After the events that took place in the manor recently, I connected all of the things together. It was not that hard to figure it out, Sir. I'm surprised you haven't tried to fix it."

Bruce frowned. He had not really thought about the trail that the events were leaving. Only those who understood the League could have connected the events. There were very few, if any, that had that level of understanding. Out of habit, however, Bruce's mind was beginning to work on ways to counteract it. It took the man a moment to-

_(doesn't matter dead already revenge needed)_

-stop himself.

"I've been preoccupied." A hint of a smile appeared on his lips. It faded with his next words. "I'm… I'm sorry, Alfred. I failed-"

The butler had his own knowing smile waiting for the younger man. "I'm sorry Sir, but I don't see how you've failed anyone now."

"Alfred, my family is dead. I wasn't able to do-"

A patient hand rose into the air, putting a halt to Bruce's words. Alfred looked calm. It was as if he already understood all of the thoughts running through the younger man's head. "Master Bruce, it is in my beliefs that you at least tried with everything you had to save them. As Miss Cassandra has told me, you were unaware of being shot because you were so focused upon saving your children. Even if you were still alive, you wouldn't have been able to help Mrs. Paula for very long.

"Moreover, I find the League to be in the wrong for allowing you all to die. If it had been one of them, you would not have allowed for such events to occur. They did you a disservice for not helping."

_(what about killing?)_

The words sat in the room, whispering against Bruce's skin. It was not anything that he had been consciously searching for, but to hear Alfred tell him that it was not his fault brought him relief. He did not fail completely.

"There are still things I have to do, Alfred."

_(things you won't like)_

"Of course there are, Sir. I believe that you are referring to the members of the Justice League?" Alfred asked. It was becoming harder for Bruce to believe that the butler had been left in the dark for so long.

Bruce was hesitant to supply an answer. Confirming what the butler already knew meant that he was admitting to the crimes. If Alfred was seeking conformation for the crimes of the past, that would have been different. Bruce would easily admit to the fact that, under the influence of the curse and being so recently resurrected from the dead-

_(still dead never can be alive again)_

-that he had killed people. But the events had already happened. Wishing to go back and undo the murders with his own hands was like wishing to go back and save his family: an impossible wish. Admitting that his thoughts were once again straying towards blood was something different. It would be admitting that the thoughts that drove one man to kill another were still there.

_(but it's true I want them dead)_

"Not all of them. But yes, I would like revenge."

A sigh escaped Alfred's lips. "Very well, Sir. When I see your parents in whatever great adventure lies after this one, I'll explain why you're late."

_(approval)_

"Thank you, Alfred." If Bruce had been a normal man, there might have been tears. Even as a vigilante, there would have been enough to wet the corners of his sapphire eyes. But he had already wasted his tears when he was first woken up after death. They were spent trying to console the other members of his precious family in the haze of pain and the lingering curse.

"If you do not mind, Master Bruce, I do have one request." There was a slight smile on the butler's face, filled with the wisdom he had bestowed upon his ward again and again throughout the decades. "Give Mister Clark Kent a punch for me. I believe it is long overdue."

An easy smile fell onto Bruce lips. He could feel his eyes flashing with the raw power lying behind them. Maybe for a moment, Alfred could see it too; the blue giving way to darkness, raw power warning the world to never to cross the man. A single word slipped out. "Sure."

_(the least I can do)_

The once-vigilante turned away from the bed, not sure of what else to say. The countless number of thanks that he owed the aging butler had been communicated long before the moment. It would have been pointless to utter them again. Nor did the man have any questions; somehow, any that arrived into the room with Bruce were lost within the conversation. All that left him with was the final push for him to accept his fate once again.

The window that he had entered in was filled with the dark shadows of the night in Gotham as well as the artificial light that filled the air. A gentle breeze parted the curtains.

"Until next time, Alfred."

The last sentence was still hanging in the air when he merged back with the shadows.

* * *

><p><strong>August 23, 11:15 PM<br>****Gotham City  
><strong>"Where is he?" Dryad asked. His footsteps followed the marks his mother left in the dirt path. "You've given him days, Mother."

"I am aware, Dryad," Muse answered back. Amusement draped around her, giving her a glow that he had not seen for almost a year. The corners of his lips tugged his mouth into a smile at the sight; his mother deserved whatever happiness she could find. "There has been a change of plans, however."

"Really?" He could feel the sarcasm forming words in his throat, the taste biting into him. "I hope that Father decided that revenge wasn't worth it anymore-"

"Give your father more credit." Their footsteps echoed together. The shadows appeared to move out of their way for her. "He is a man of justice, after all."

"A man with a whole lot more _fucking patience_ than the rest of us put together!" Pyroead's words jumped out of the darkness before he did. "His plan requires _years_ of waiting. And I can't be the only one who hates this idea!"

"He has a point, Mom," Sylph's voice added. "We've waited for so long. And there's little better than eternal torture for them." The taller figure of the eldest brother emerged next to his lover, his calm face heavily contrasting the other's.

"How can we trust him?" Dryad asked. It was a dreadful question to even consider, but it was one that nonetheless crossed his mind. It was the way of thinking that his father had taught him: always doubt until you have the facts. It had save them countless lives at the small expense of being called "paranoid" by other heroes. "The extent of damage J'onn did to him could have messed up his psyche. He might believe in their justice again."

Muse appeared unfazed by the accusation. Logic dictated her emotions, a mirror reflection of what their father did during the endless nights of crime. For a moment, the youngest of the sons could see the woman who sat by the computer terminal throughout the night, her mind dictating her emotions. That woman had never once thought about the dictating idea of revenge.

_(how times have changed)_

"I understand the concerns. However, do not doubt me. I made sure to check into his intentions before I came back." She was calm when providing her answers, her confidence lying within her powers.

Siren, her arrival hidden by the same shadows that shielded the cave from sight, appeared by Dryad's side. "And you took out Martian Manhunter so he could not reverse the process."

"And he will remain like that until our task is complete," Muse said. "Now come. We have preparations to make-"

"Did anyone else not hear the 'it's gonna take years?" Pyroead growled. "Not all of us have that kind of patience!"

"Why are we taking so long? It's not like we're looking for anyone else," Sylph added. Confusion covered his face. "What do we gain from this?"

"Time," Dryad muttered softly. "Time to remind the rest of the world that they won't get away with blind trust."

_(how many fools walk this planet)_

* * *

><p><strong>August 27, 2:29 PM<br>****Watchtower  
><strong>Bruce sat by the computer terminal. His face was set to reveal nothing but the stoic Batman that everyone thought they knew. There was a lot of emotional turmoil that was filling him as he typed away, but he was careful not to let any of it slip through. He had been a man with intelligence, money, connections, and a higher sense of justice than most people. But at the end of the day, he was only a man. He was not above the need for revenge. He lost his family and his life through the actions of the Justice League. Seeking his own justice was not a crime to him; it was what was to be expected.

His blue eyes turned to look at the picture that was resting under the monitor. Despite everyone's protests, Bruce kept the picture that he found at Wayne Manor. Everyone captured in the photo was smiling with a genuine happiness that had been lost. Alfred was dying. The rest had lost their sanity at one point or another after they were awoken from the dead, never fully recovering from the loss. And then there was him, a man who supposedly lost most of his memory and believed in justice once again.

_(they can't get away hurt so much)_

Even the smallest motions were careful not to reveal anything. An angry, balled fist could have given him away if the League was looking for the signs.

"Uh... Batman?" The hesitant voice broke through the silence of the room. Bruce turned calmly, not wanting to scare the redhead teenager. The man, with startling accuracy, could still remember the words they exchanged during their first meeting.

"Wallace." The name came out in a growled tone.

"I... I have something for you." In his left hand Wally was clutching a small piece of paper, folded over several times before being crushed in his grip. "Black Canary also said that you could... train me."

_(Dinah how much do you know?)_

"We'll see, kid." Bruce held out a gloved hand. It took the speedster a moment to realize what he was gesturing for. In a bout of speed, he handed over the folded paper before retreating to the doorway. His emerald eyes had hesitance in them. It was the only sign that Bruce had that showed how new the teenager was to the idea. The older man could understand where the questions were coming from. If he was still Batman and stood for everything he once believed to be right, maybe he would be feeling the same thing. "Anything else?"

"Huh? Uh..." Wally had a look that was caught between confusion and embarrassment. "No... No, sir. There's nothing else."

"Hm." Bruce eyed the paper in the palm of his hand. He could remember the competitive spirit that his children had, trying to deduce things about the writer of the paper through they observed. Dick had called it "Sherlocking" with a laugh, followed by Jason's declarations that Bruce was not allow to participate until the very end. It wasn't hard to believe that the world's greatest detective would gain the most knowledge. It was one of the many games that helped the nights pass. "Come back in an hour. We'll work out something."

"Uh, yeah! Thanks," Wally said happily, some of his former spirit returning. The resemblance between the teenager and his uncle were prevalent in that moment, and Bruce could imagine what they were like before.

_(I'll take care of him Barry don't worry)_

"Don't you have somewhere else to be?" The growl came out, more from habit than impatience. Whether the other understood or not was lost from Bruce: the teenager ran out of the room the second the detective finished his question. It brought a tug to a corner of Bruce's lips.

He opened the paper carefully, already knowing what to expect. Wally had reeked of his wife's power. It hung onto the boy without anyone's knowledge. The man could guess at the protections that his wife put around the boy, only being able to conclude that she was trying to protect the boy as if he were one of her own. It was the same aura that held Kaldur in a gentle grip, and to a lesser extent M'gann, reducing the effects of the fire cage. It was the kind of protection that they had wished to give their own children during patrols. While they were all trained and equipped to deal with everything imaginable that they could face in the night, it was never enough in the couple's eyes. As parents, they always wanted to give them more.

_(if only)_

A single word stood out of the creamy colored paper. The ink had soaked into some of the fibers around it, making the careful writing messier while retaining the original shape. If Bruce had really thought about it, he could follow the pen strokes in his mind with the image of his wife carefully creating the word in ink.

_Robin_

"Hm." He crushed the paper in his grip, making sure that the word was not visible from any of the cameras in the room. He lowered his fist. A warming coldness filled his palms, eating away at the evidence. When the darkness finally ate the slip of paper, he allowed his hand to open. Any traces that survived fell to the ground like rain, dusting the floor. He was careful to not draw his attention to the shadows hidden at his feet consuming the rest of the remains. In seconds, it was as if the paper never existed.

_(like a Robin_

poor kid)

Bruce brought his hands back to the keyboard, typing away commands and records for the computer. It was the only sound that consumed the room. It was minutes later that-

_(I can risk it)_

-he pulled up a webpage. The name sat in bold print at the top, lacking any sort of discretion that the Dark Knight was known for.

_Lampads_

"A Greek nymph who carried a torch in the darkness." The words rolled off of Bruce's tongue with ease. The rest of the page only had a few other sentences dedicated to explaining the myth. It was nothing new for the man to read. Instead, it worked to bring the barest hints of a smile to his face. The name fitted him well.

"Bruce, what are you doing?" Clark's voice filled the room. Bruce could tell that the Kryptonian had hoped to surprise him, not realizing that even his flying abilities could not mask his entering. The notable anger that slipped into the man's voice, however, was the striking characteristic that stuck out. It spoke with authority that was not his. "What are you looking up?"

"It's a name that's been in my dreams for the past few days. Whatever it's supposed to mean is..." The frustration the once-vigilante managed to slip into his voice was more than enough; Superman was set on edge at the implications. "I'm going to the archives-"

"Bruce, no."

_(what have you learned while I was gone)_

"Excuse me?"

"That name brought you so much pain. It's as bad as the knowledge of your wife." Clark folded her arms. His voice was strong, carrying out the sentence without issue. The strong overtone of authority drove the words. There was little regard to subtlety.

Bruce pretended to mull over the words for a moment. He couldn't help but marvel at the lengths Clark and the rest of the League were taking to keep him in the dark. While the Kryptonian had always lacked the delicate touch that a detective needed, he was never blatantly showy. He had spent enough time with the Dark Knight to know when to keep his mouth shut. But the single sentence left the impression that Superman had forgotten what Batman had taught him. "I am unaware of how knowing about my wife would cause any damage to me. Not to mention the fact that that is a piece of information _that I should have been told about_."

The Man of Steel winced at the tone of the words rather than at the words themselves. "Bruce, I'm sorry, but every time you remembered your wife, you would revert back to your original state."

"I thought the cure was biological. I wasn't aware that there was a psychological component to whatever affected me," the human shot back.

"J'onn said there were some things that became ingrained in you through your exposure." Clark crossed his arms. "We were doing it for the best of your interests."

_(that explanation is almost plausible)_

"Hmph." Logically, Bruce could not argue with the fact. If the roles were reverse, he himself might have done the same exact thing.

_(but it's different I have justice to obtain)_

"I'm sorry, Bruce. But we _had_ too," Clark protested.

"In your words, _Boy Scout_, 'it doesn't mean I have to like it.'" Bruce kept his gaze on the monitor. "One day, I want an explanation to what exactly 'Lampads' means."

"And I will provide it. But until then…"

"In the meantime, you can explain 'Project Kr.'" Paula-

_(Muse always Muse my Muse)_

-had briefly explained the situation involving the clone. What she lacked to tell him, Bruce had supplemented with what was stored in the Justice League's database. He was hoping to meet the teenager soon; if he had won over his youngest son's heart, he must be an interesting character.

Clark had the decency to blush. "He's a clone."

"A clone that potentially has all of your powers and seems to have joined the other side because he couldn't form a strong connection with anyone from the team." With a light push from his left foot, the once-vigilante swiveled the chair to turn and look at the Kyrptonian. "Dinah says that she's not surprised. In fact, her words were 'He needs them more than he needs us.'"

"Bruce-"

"No, Clark. You fucked up." Bruce stood up, maintaining his glare on the other. "I hope that it doesn't cost you."

_(it's too late Kal-EL you've killed us_

_how can you live with yourself?)_

* * *

><p><strong>August 31, 2:23 PM<br>****Washington DC  
><strong>_(fire everywhere fire fire fire)_

M'gann was careful to keep her head lowered. Since she had been placed in the specially-designed cage, the fire seemed to have grown stronger. At best, all it did was cause her discomfort. At worst, it was the outline of her own personal Hell on Earth.

_(so cruel why why why)_

There was very little news that was passed onto her. The ones who brought her food were tightlipped, saying nothing more than brief greetings. Rarely would they say anything more to the Martian teenager. Sometimes, Flash would come and mutter a thing or two to her. It was small things, but it kept her mind off of her prison as she mulled over the piece of news. It was not enough to last a full day, but it lasted.

It was through the man that she found out about Kaldur's return. He had told her in a whisper, watching as her eyes widened at the news. He stayed as she ate the food set before her that one time. She only managed to bring herself to ask simple questions: Kaldur's state of being, any visible injuries, how Wally reacted. The hero answered back patiently. It was as close as she could get with her former teammates.

_(because I'm a traitor no one loves me)_

_(I love you)_

Nymph's voice still whispered words into M'gann's head. It was not a fact that she was happy with, but it had kept away some of the boredom. Once in a while, the voice would lead the Martian's thoughts to the woman. In hindsight, she had been much kinder to M'gann than the League. She always provided books that chased away the boredom. The cave was never too uncomfortable. The metal collar was the worst of it all, and even then the weight of it against her neck was nothing like the fire.

_(I)_

Her mind stuttered.

_(I don't know if I can love you back)_

She closed her eyes. A part of her kept a steady hope that the League would see the error of their ways and set her free. Even if that wish failed, she hoped for her uncle to awaken.

_(doesn't deserve this even if he hates me)_

_(you're too kind to the world too kind)_

"M'gann?" Kaldur's soft voice floated through the bars. It wasn't heavy with the darkness of the cave; it sounded as if he had just returned from a trip to Atlantis. "Are you alright, M'gann?"

The automatic answer was caught in her throat. It was accompanied by a fear that had recently started to grow deep inside her. It scared away her attempts to be honest about her condition. It filled her head with drifting ideas about what it would be like to be truly alone. Her words, shaken by the thoughts, changed. "I'm doing okay."

"That is good to hear." A second lapsed by before the Atlantean spoke again. "Are you not going to say anything, Wally?"

"I… Sorry, M'gann. Just lost in thought. Man, they really are paranoid, aren't they?" The redhead's voice was kept to a soft volume. It made the Martian aware that they could be breaking the rules just to see her. "You sure you're okay?"

"I'm…"

_("M'gann, set up the mind link please. We need to talk."_

"_O…okay."_

"_You can tell us that you're not doing okay, you know. I mean, look at this prison! This is fuckin' paranoia-"_

"_Wally."_

"_Right, not helping. Sorry."_

"_It… it could be worse."_

"_But we both know what better is like, M'gann.")_

M'gann allowed the words to sit in her head. The memories associated with the sentence came back at a molasses's pace. They almost drowned her as they had attempted to countless times before. It was a pleasant way to fill her time in the cage; instead of turning to memories of watching the television shows her uncle sent to her, her mind wandered to the recent events of being trapped in the cave. The darkness there was comforting, even loving. Even Nymph's voice was a comfort compared to the burning hatred the League displayed against her.

_("Yes, we do."_

"_M'gann, do you miss it?")_

It didn't take her long to form a response.

_("Yes. I want to go back. I don't care anymore. This… this hurts so much. I wanted to be accepted, and… and…"_

"_M'gann, you're not alone. You will always have your teammates."_

"_Yeah, what Kaldur said. We're together, thick and thin!"_

"_But- but I'm-"_

_don't say it stupid to say but so true_

"_- a White Martian-"_

"_Ah, alien racism. Not such a big deal for us!"_

_alien racism familiar Pyroead)_

M'gann frowned at the line of thoughts that came after Wally's comment. She had heard the same wording before from the pyro of the group. Sometimes the cave shook with his loud voice, carrying his opinion of League matters to her and Aqualad. Despite his outward fury, the man knew what he was talking about.

_("You… Why?"_

"_Look into our minds, M'gann. There lie your answers."_

_can I trust them? can I believe them?_

_they're my teammates thick and thin)_

Her mind began to tune out the link between them. The focus fell onto the waves of emotion that ran against her own. The calmness that they carried passed onto her, coaxing her into the respective minds. She followed them, the warmth of the familiarity holding her gently. It took a few seconds to realize what lied behind the warmth.

_(darkness)_

Instead of surprise filling her, however, she experienced a sense of relief.

_("M'gann?"_

"_Go. Don't come back. Don't get caught."_

"_I hope we did not offend you-"_

"_Go. You're jeopardizing their trust in you.")_

Through the light roar of the fire, the Martian was able to hear the light footsteps of the other two teenagers. For a moment, she considered asking them to rescue her. Anything was better than her confinements. Even being in the arms of the League's supposed enemies seemed better than dealing with the League against her.

_("Will you be okay?")_

Wally's hesitant voice made her look up. Near the doorway, the speedster had stopped and turned around to look at her. His emerald eyes appeared to be enlarged as worry drowned them. Behind them, the darkness that was in his mind sparked.

_("Not yet.")_

He nodded. In the next second, the shadows engulfed him. There was not a trace of emotion that slipped passed his worry for her as the shadows clung to him. The dark mass had fully covered the figure before pulling the teenager into the ground. There were no screams of pain to accompany the sight; M'gann assumed that the redhead was getting taken somewhere safe. The relief that she felt earlier intensified at the thought of her friends being safe.

_(keep me company please)_

_(darkness will always be there for you M'gann)_

For the first time in weeks, M'gann was able to fall into a peaceful sleep.

* * *

><p><strong>So, I answered some questions while leaving a ton more unanswered. I'm so good at this, aren't I? However, I would like to point out that Muse's identity is now know. So now you know all of the Batfamily and the names. For those wanting a full listquick refresher:  
>(in order of appearance)<br>Nymph- Barbara Gordon  
>Dryad- Tim Drake Wayne<br>Pyroead- Jason Todd Wayne  
>Siren- Artemis Crock Wayne<br>Sylph- Richard "Dick" Grayson Wayne  
>Lampads- Bruce Wayne<br>Muse- Paula Nguyen Wayne**

**Now for a hint of what's next: can anyone say five-year time skip?  
>(Yes, admittedly, this wasn't a part of the plan until it was revealed to be done for Season 2. However, the writers of the shows have done a great job with it so far. Also, upon reflection, what I have planned for the second half of this story would make more sense if there was a time skip involved. So... Time skip!)<strong>

**Thanks for reading so far! The second half is coming!**


	9. Kraken

**So, I am pathetically late with updating this fic. By a lot. I am really not good with keeping a regular schedule for this story. *sighs and starts thinking about abusing a planner***

_**Anyways**_**, as mentioned last chatper, there is a five year time skip. And just when I think I won't diverge even further than what's going on in the canon world... Then again, I'm not as kind to the characters as the writers are. Ah well. They'll survive- oh, wait. Whoops.**

**This chapter is probably more confusing than the rest. There are some notes at the end to help sort out some stuff, and remember you can always message me and ask me questions!**

**Still don't own Young Justice (probably for the greater good). Enjoy!**

* * *

><p><strong>5 years later<br>****September 23, 4:16 PM  
><strong>**Gotham City**

The graveyard was quiet, the cityscape surrounding the perimeters. Muse was one of the few within the dark metal gates that separated the living from the dead. The overcast of the day reflected against her, softening the shadows that waited. Her face was schooled to reveal only hints of sadness. Her steps were quiet, carefully avoiding leaves and branches scattered within the grass. The black trench coat that was loosely wrapped around her rose with the occasional strong bout of wind. It didn't take long before it fluttered back into place.

Several minutes passed before she came to a stop in front of one of the tombstones. There was nothing spectacular about the sight; the tombstone consisted of a generic design and could be easily lost in the sea of memorials.

"Hello, Alfred." Muse cocked her head to one side as she began to speak. A wave of raw emotion rose and crashed into her thoughts, but nothing deterred the small smile that slipped onto her lips. "It has been a while, hasn't it? Sometimes you can't help but forget the time that's passed.

"Bruce's plan is going well. The League is falling apart from their own actions. It should only be a matter of months now. I hope that you can see the destruction for yourself. It promises to be spectacular."

Muse closed her eyes. The power of the wind was suddenly increasing, bursting through the graveyard with anger. The object that rested behind it did not faze the woman. Instead, a sigh was drawn from her lips and was captured by the gusts. "I'm sorry, Alfred. It appears that one of Bruce's… 'colleagues' has shown up."

She passed a hand over the tombstone before turning her attention to the gates. The iron bars were sitting patiently near the horizon. The spacing between the confinements allowed her a glimpse of the red metal that was just beyond the walls.

_(again and again must I kill you?)_

Another voice interrupted Muse's thoughts. It was not overly powerful, having lost strength since-

_(sine she resurrected us)_

-the dark night six years ago. But it was not frail. Only the barest hints of the curse resided in the soft tones. "Would you like me to do something about him, child?"

Muse continued to stare down at the tombstone. She already knew the sight that would be awaiting her if she turned around: the woman with gray skin tones, her skin cracking from the pain. The sight was becoming too common for Muse. However, there was little she could do to reverse the damage. Some of the scars that ran across the other's body had been there from years-

_(what year her year?)_

-before. Many more were recent additions left by the curse Fate had placed. A passerby would have found themselves entranced by them. The spell that encased the area prevented such an occurrence from happening.

"It's alright." Muse kept her focus on the android beyond the iron doors. "I wanted to stay with my husband. Red Tornado is only providing me a reason to be at headquarters."

"I know, my child. But it is a mother's job to worry." There was amusement in the other's voice. "I will see you another time, then."

"Yes, of course," Muse said, turning her head away from the grave. There was no point in saying the words; the other had already disappeared.

A sigh escaped Muse's lips as she turned her attention back to the figure beyond the gate. Unlike Nymph, she did not take pleasure in trapping the android within his own mind. It had happened five years ago under her guidance because she was looking for her children. With the task complete, she had hoped to avoid doing so again and again. Red Tornado, on the other hand, continued to hunt her as if catching her would bring him lost honor. The encounters between the two had been few and far between, yet the sight of the metallic coating always left a bitter taste in the woman's mouth. He was not as guilty as the others were. If she could avoid battling him, she would have been content.

There were moments that made such a wish seem like an impossible dream.

The wind had died down, the dark trench coat floating back to wrap itself around her. Some anticipation ran through her blood. It was a small amount, nothing compared to what she faced nightly while she was mortal. Nonetheless, it still brought on what felt to be like an adrenaline rush-

_(but the dead don't have adrenaline)_

-to her body.

"Your reputation needed a few more blows, anyways," she muttered. Her footsteps were still quiet and full of purpose. Her dark pupils focused on the hero that waited beyond the gate.

_(wonder why you don't come in do you understand what it means to honor the dead?)_

A small chuckle left her lips.

It was only when she had passed the tall, imposing gates that the android approached her. "Why would you come here?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," she answered back. A look of confusion and worry crossed her appearance. It appeared genuine enough to alert those within hearing range of her words. "I'm sorry, but am I supposed to know you on first name basis?"

Simulated anger seemed to pass over the metallic face. "You know what I'm talking about."

"Excuse me, Red Tornado, but I'm afraid I don't know you well enough to divulge any information. In fact, I don't know why you're talking to me." Muse kept the hostility out of her voice. She knew better than to let any of her emotions slip past the controlled expressions. In return, more people around her cast the pair glances. A young teenage boy had discretely pulled out his cell phone.

"Nonetheless, you are to come with me to-"

"What are you talking about?" She allowed herself to appear frantic.

"-the Justice League Headquarters." With that, he unceremoniously grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her close. Gusts of wind started to form at their feet before his powers lifted them into the air.

Muse looked around. The teenager, his hair being whipped around by the wind, had pointed the phone's camera to the duo. His face was entranced with a mixture of worry and confusion. It was the same face Muse had seen hundreds of times before.

_(see what I can do? any stage any place I make the story)_

A part of the woman wanted to laugh; Red Torando had missed the looks that filled the faces of the civilians below.

_(what unobserving fools you all are)_

* * *

><p><strong>September 23, 4:32 PM<br>****Washington DC**

It had been years since the last time Wally had stepped into what remained of the Justice League headquarters. He had tried to avoid the building with a passion during his teenage years after Dryad and Pyroead-

_(and Kon can't forget Kon)_

-had destroyed most of it. The League had managed to put essential rooms back together, relying on security to keep intruders out of the rest. It was not close to the formidable fortress the League had years ago, but it served its purpose.

The Watchtower had suffered an even greater fate. Somewhere between the years, the League was forced to dismantle it. Wally had never gotten the full story out of his uncle-

_(still nothing he tells me nothing they tell me nothing they don't care)_

-so he was left to his anger at the League for once again keeping him in the dark. If the redhead had actually put in the effort, he would have guessed and deduced the events that occurred. It wasn't hard to realize that there must have been a large scale attack; nothing else could have made the Justice League give up one of their biggest advantages. It was also a great risk to pull the station down to Earth for repairs as it was supposed to be a secret. As to who had attacked, Wally didn't even have to guess. He instead kept his mouth shut and observed his uncle's actions quietly.

"You can't quit, Diana!" Superman's powerful voice filled the hallways, echoing against the walls. It sent Wally running to the conference room. It only took the speedster seconds to register who was there. Superman was at the head of the table, one of his hands resting against the polished wood. The Amazon princess was only a few feet away from him with her arms crossed. To complete the trio, Batman was in one of the seats on the opposite side of the two. "We still haven't stopped them-"

"Do you think I don't know that, Clark?" Wonder Woman hissed back. Her eyes flashed in anger. "Ever since I woke up from that coma that is what I've been trying to do, twenty-four seven. I haven't been home for _years_, Kent, and I'm growing sick of it!"

Wally allowed his body weight to fall to his left side, resting against the door frame. The scene playing out in front of him was like the other ones that would sometimes send his uncle to hard liquor. It never got easier to see one of the members of the Justice League quit. The number of members on active duty continuously fluctuated during the passing years. Wonder Woman was not the first of the founding members to want to leave the roster.

"We need every bit of manpower-"

"At this rate, you'll wear out every single bit of manpower you have! How many wild goose chases have there been this week alone?" Diana hissed back. "It hasn't just been a lousy week. It's been lousy _years_."

The Kryptonian looked lost at the words. Wally could see arguments coming to the front of his mind, only to be shot down with logic. Finally, he turned to the human in the room. "Bruce-"

"Don't get me in your losing battles, Kent. I don't have time for that." Batman placed his palm against the table, using it to help him stand up in one fluid motion. "The best I can offer is a compromise."

"A _compromise_?" The Amazon's temper was ready to go after the Dark Knight.

Bruce made no signs of weakness in the face of her wrath. "Diana, you will be placed on the emergency roster. Only when someone other than Superman thinks the situation is desperate enough will we call you."

"That-"

Batman continued without pausing to acknowledge the Kryptonian's protest. "At the same time, we'll pull someone back to active duty. However, this will not be someone who is always on clock. Some people have civilian lives."

The last two words of Bruce's sentence made the other founders pause. A look of sadness passed over Diana's face while Superman's quickly reverted to emptiness. If Wally had to guess, it was the guilt-

_(Superman guilt no remorse)_

-as both he and Diana had other lives. Bruce could no longer return to his, given the circumstances of his disappearance.

It was Diana who spoke. "Who?"

"Wallace will work as a second Flash for the time being." Batman turned his head. It was the first time that the speedster's presence was acknowledged. "We will use him fleetingly as he is attending college."

Wally nodded back to his mentor with little thought over what was being said. Before Wally left the superhero life-

_(thank you)_

-Batman served as the redhead's second mentor. Unlike Barry, Bruce had the experience of having someone to teach. He made no effort to coddle the speedster. For days, Wally would have to remind himself that the aches from exercises would be worth. He had not been lying; by the time he declared his semi-permanent hiatus as a hero, he could beat his uncle with ease. "I also can't really do patrol shifts. Gets in the way of studying, you know?"

Bruce nodded his head in agreement. Superman, however, continued to stare at Wally with narrowed eyes. "Bruce, he is still just-"

"He's close to the same age you were when you started, _Smallville_. And unlike you, he has had intense training," the Dark Knight shot back. "If you want manpower, you have it."

"Are you sure, Wally?" Diana asked.

"Yeah, no problem!" He threw a wink at her for good measure, balancing out the uneasiness coursing through him. He could feel the edge of anticipation rushing through his blood. It was only his wit that saved him. "Wally's back in business, baby!"

The Amazon gave him an amused grin in return. "Thank you, Wally."

"Ah, no worries! Just get some rest!"

_(run run never come back)_

A smile graced her lips, keeping hold as she walked to the doorway. She paused when she passed the redhead. "Thank you." She leaned over, her lips brushing against his cheek in gratitude. "Be careful."

_(too late already too late)_

He flashed a smile to her as she walked out. His emerald eyes were still focused on the hallway she had disappeared into as he spoke. "So, when do I start?"

Superman frowned. "You are not starting."

"You get no say in this, Kent. Diana needs rest and, as you so blatantly said, we need manpower." Batman walked towards the door, his attention never once falling back to Clark. "Wallace."

"Oh, right." The redhead was quick to follow the man out of the room. The last thing he observed was the sigh escaping the Kryptonian's lips. But the image was easily gone as were his worries.

The Dark Knight led him through the hallways of what remained of the Earth-bound headquarters. Wally's emerald eyes followed the cracks that filled most of the spaces. Some were still radiating with the power that broke into the building five years ago. The lighting was sporadic at best, consisting of naked light bulbs placed at the most stable sections of ceiling. With each passing mass of shadows the speedster could feel an unnatural coolness slip around him. It was a familiar feeling.

After the man led him through the maze of hallways, his low voice filled the silence. "Ask."

The first question was quickly spilled from Wally's lips. "How could they lie to themselves for this long?"

"Only a few are not on full time duty. They're the only ones who pay attention to the daily news. The only reason that they haven't left yet is because they need the backup."

"And the others?" After a second, Wally rephrased his question. "How are they able to justify it?"

Bruce turned his head back, a glare already overtaking his face. Wally shrugged back in response. "Sorry, boss."

There was no acknowledgment of the apology. The man continued to walk down the hallways with authority wrapped around him like a cape. "The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. The ones who actively pay attention to the media call only during extreme circumstances. They've already requested to avoid certain people, of course."

"Ah." Wally smiled at the implication. "I'm allowed the same rights?"

"No."

"Damn." It took a few more moments for the next question to escape his lips. "It's starting soon, isn't it?"

This time the Dark Knight didn't offer an answer. The silence was enough.

* * *

><p><strong>September 24, 6:03 AM<br>****Atlantic Ocean, coordinates unknown**

There was blood everywhere. Every surface has some of the crimson liquid dripping off of it, the whole area tainted red from the sheer amount that was present. Sometimes, when Black Manta allowed his eyes to follow the trails down the metallic machinery-

_(only way to have an advantage should always have an advantage_

_too late)_

-his eyes would find the guts of one of his men. He tried not to dwell on the image. The thought alone could have been enough to kill him.

Ironically, he was trapped in his own throne. Ice-

_(can't be ice ice isn't this strong)_

-covered his hands and feet, pinning him to the chair where he would sit and give commands from. It had worked to reaffirm the other that he was the leader. It also held his dreams of one day being replaced by the throne of Atlantis. Now it mocked him while serving as his prison.

Kaldur was finishing off one of his last victims. He had shed his upper armor long ago, choosing to keep a black muscle shirt on. It did nothing to hide the blood stains.

_(what had happened to you my son)_

The boy's face showed no remorse for what he was doing. If anything, there was glee shining through his dark eyes. Some of the blood had splattered around his face while the good majority of it covered his arms. Kaldur made no signs about being uncomfortable with the clinging crimson liquid.

"He's such a good guy about this, you know?" The girl was sitting against the throne. She had transformed earlier from the assassin he believed her to be. Her black hair had changed into a dark shade on the blonde spectrum. Her eyes were a peculiar shade of blue, the novelty finding reason of existence through bits of insanity that flickered through her face. She had removed the magical jewelry in front of him before the slaughter began. The twisted smirk never once left her eyes afterwards.

"How long have you had him under your spell, witch?" He tried to keep his voice calm. The undying rage, however, managed to filter through.

"We've been in love for almost five years. I'm not sure if you could call love a spell, though," she said. Her blue eyes-

_(lifeless mocking insane)_

-never once left Kaldur. "It worked out too well to be a spell."

"So it is because of _love_ that my son-" The rest of the words died on his tongue. Kaldur had just brought his sword down on the unfortunate soldier's neck.

"Slaughters? Yes. I can't say I'm upset with these results." The girl looked up. Black Manta could see the darkness and insanity as little flecks in her irises. "Not a lot of guys have killed for me. Beyond my family, there's really no one."

"Isn't that why you joined us?" he replied. "You wanted vengeance."

"You? Provide that?" Her laughter filled the air, tainted with-

_(insanity sadness eagerness death)_

-a slew of emotions he could only begin to comprehend. "Oh, no. We just chose you because you're a means to an end."

Anger bubbled in him. The words came out before he had a chance to think them over. "I am Black Manta! I am-"

"A second-rate villain who thinks his hatred and technology will win him victory. But, on the bright side, you were useful. I mean, really, we could have chosen any other villain. But you just made things really convenient for us. How could we turn down that?" A dark smile appeared on her lips. "If you really think about it, Kaldur inherited quite a gift from you. Your intelligence and cutthroat methods could be strengthened. Luckily, we were able to help Kaldur'ahm."

"And you use these forces against me," the man-

_(was I always only a man?)_

-concluded. "And now Kaldur is going against the Justice League's belief that life should be preserved."

"Were you having a stupid moment when I was talking? He kills for _me_." A sudden bout of possessiveness filled her voice, reflecting in her blue eyes.

Black Manta remained quiet as he turned his attention back to Kaldur. The young man had finished with the last of his victims, allowing himself time to rest and admire his work. A drop of blood traced a path on his cheek. The Atlantean didn't seem to notice.

"Kaldur'ahm." The voice coming out of Black Manta's throat was heavy. He did not appreciate the Atlantean name, but it had been the only thing that the father was allowed to call his son. The man had once insisted on using the codename "Manta." The suggestion was met with a chuckle and was never brought up again.

The uttering of his name seemed to wake the half-Atlantean from his trance. His eyes turned toward the man trapped within his own throne. There was mirth in Kaldur's eyes, tainted with the blood dripping from his hands. It was a demonic sight that was ready to tear through the rest of the living that remained.

_(only me)_

"Siren." Kaldur bowed to the blonde girl. The smile Black Manta saw on his face was almost an exact reflection of her dark one. "I believe that it is time to return back to Atlantis's courts."

"There's still one thing left on your to-do list," the girl pointed out. There was no hint of hurrying in her voice; only patience and love. "You haven't forgotten already, have you?"

"I have not." He turned away from his companion, the light green eyes holding nothing but love. The feeling morphed to hatred when his gaze fell upon Black Manta. "I wonder if you are proud of your accomplishments."

"Kaldur-"

"You have had many men killed for plots you know will fail, just to have the other side suffer casualties as well. You allow peaceful prisoners to be tortured." The rage was slow to build in his voice, but it was impossible to ignore its presence. It was a sharp force behind the words. "A drawn out death for you would be fitting."

"But that would go against your precious Justice League's ideals," Black Manta said. Fear already had a grasp upon his mind, but the sight of the green eyes before him allowed the force to fully envelop him. Still, the man managed to keep the paralyzing emotion out of his voice.

Kaldur scoffed. "I do not care for them."

"You care for this witch, then. She will use you until your dying days. You'll never be free," he said angrily. On reflex, his hands attempted to curl into fists. The ice prevented the motion, sending pain up his arms with a bitter smile.

The boy frowned at the statement. He leaned over so that his head was leveled next to his father's ear. The words were hushed, yet the amount of emotion behind them was clear enough to be heard throughout the room. "That is not the case. But if it were, I would gladly allow myself to be used."

"You're insane."

"So I am," Kaldur agreed as he stepped back. The water bearer that he was holding in his right hand was taking up a new shape. What was once a sword because a large mace, heavy and armed. It reminded the villain of the maces that the hawk-like members of the Justice League used. The water that made up the weapon shimmered a few times under the lighting. Traces of blood that were caught in the transformation tainted the clear liquid.

Black Manta looked at his son one last time before closing his eyes.

* * *

><p><strong>September 25, 6:24 PM<br>****Atlantis**

Mera looked between Kaldur and his blonde companion. The wave of relief that overcame every other sense was unparalleled. She had known about the deep cover mission since the beginning. The memories of Orin and Kaldur were heartbreaking, watching as they dissected the details of the plan without any emotion. The queen did not want to send her former student on the mission. She had feared the worst from Kaldur's biological father.

Somehow, she couldn't believe in the success.

_(a miracle)_

Kaldur's hand was holding the blonde's, caught between the choices of a tight grip of security and a soft one of love. His eyes never strayed from the thrones at the front of the room. The mermaid's eyes, however, continued to dart around with fascination. The blue irises were filled with joy, untouched by whatever horrors that took place under Black Manta's guidance. She retuned Kaldur's grip with her own steady hold.

_(devotion love where can you find such things)_

Mera turned her attention to the empty throne beside her. Orin had gone to the surface just days before. He had left with little preamble, warning his own subjects not to come to him unless there was an emergency.

It was a huge shift in his routine that the queen was unable to become accustomed to. His business with the Justice League had always been time-consuming. He had refused to divulge much of the information, but recent years had made his secret keeping habits worse. Mera was left with what she could gather, filing away information between small pockets of free time. She was always wishing that things were different.

_(even Bruce told me more than him now)_

Her attention turned back to the two figures before her. Her former pupil's shoulders loosened as their eyes met. "Kaldur'ahm, you have been missed."

"My queen." He bowed to her, the old formalities taking over his manner. The blonde mermaid watched, her blue eyes filling with fascination and curiosity. Their hands never left the shared grip.

"Your mission?"

"A success in some regards." He looked up and kept his gaze steady upon her. The light green eyes were weighted with pain and death. "An unknown agent went berserk and managed to kill most of Black Manta's troops. Black Manta also did not survive the encounter."

The words were bittersweet to hear. Mera could not stop the surge of happiness at the thought of the biggest threat to peace dead. After his major attack on Atlantis years ago, no one was able to sleep without worry and pain. There had been a death toll that day. The dead were buried while the living continued to suffer. She could still remember the flurry of emotions-

_(happy angry lost confused)_

-that came when her former student informed her of his mission.

However, Black Manta's -

_(did he have a name?)_

- death did not quell all of the anger. The man could not have suffered as much as he deserved to. He enjoyed the pain that he inflicted upon the kingdom, watching them through their grief. If there was nothing to return the same amount of torture to him, Mera was sure that there was no justice.

_(Kaldur's father)_

"Are you…" She could feel the words disappear on her tongue. A second passed as she tried to regain them. "Are you okay, Kaldur? I understand how traumatizing this must be for you-"

"With all respects, my queen, there is nothing for you to worry about. The man that I was watching was not my father," he replied. His voice was strong, unaware of the burden that many others had faced before him. "He has done things that no father would do to their child."

A question, made up of a single word-

_(like?)_

-was trapped in her throat.

"Your majesty?" The mermaid hesitantly bowed her head. Her blue eyes clouded over with anxiety when she looked up again. "I don't want to change topics too much, but… Tula is alive."

The redhead's body crashed into her own throne as her sitting posture collapsed. She felt herself breath in more water, compensating for the surprise. The few words that had not left her staggered passed her lips. "Wh- what? Tula? She's-"

"Alive, your majesty. Her condition has stabilized…" The sentence trailed off before her voice faltered. The mermaid's gaze averted from the queen's eyes. "…but there is scarring that will never heal. I did my best at the time-"

"You have done more than enough," Mera said softly. "We had believed Tula to be lost to us. You have done us a great service."

"Thank you, your majesty." The girl bowed her head again.

Mera turned her attention back to the Atlantean. The adrenaline rush that had accompanied the news about Tula had faded, allowing the rest of her mind to compose itself. The question that she had held back when first seeing the mermaid returned. "Kaldur, who is your companion? I have never seen her before."

"My queen, this is Siren."

_(Siren)_

"Black Manta had-"

_(no it can't be)_

"-found her. She lost all of her-"

_(impossible no look at her)_

"-memories, but-"

_(she's not my Siren she's not my sister)_

"I'm sorry, Kaldur," Mera interrupted. The logic running through her head repeated itself softly, drowning out any other thought. She could barely hear herself speak. "Your return appears to have little effect on the timing. Can you repeat yourself?"

The young Atlantean bowed his head again. "My queen, I apologize for our early morning arrival. Our tale can be told at a later time, so that we may all catch up on sleep."

"And Tula?"

"She is with the healers as we speak."

Relief escaped her lips. "Garth will be ecstatic to hear the news. He will find out the moment he wakes up. Your room is still next to his, Kaldur. As for-" There was only a slight pause that filled the time between the word and the name. It seemed to go unnoticed by everyone but her. "-Siren-"

"Pardon me for my forwardness, my queen, but we usually sleep together," Kaldur said without hesitation.

"I am glad you found happiness, Kaldur." A smile graced the queen's lips, despite the chaos that was beginning to show in her eyes. "May it follow you two for the services you've done."

_(don't follow Siren don't let her follow me)_

"But your majesty," the blonde-

_(not my Siren not my sister)_

-protested. There was grief in her voice, making the words hesitate before leaving her lips. "The agent that slaughtered the others… We don't know where he is or who he even is!"

"We are also led to believe that he is within the city boundaries," Kaldur added. "We have failed-"

"You have brought back Tula and suffered under that madman's power. You two have done enough. Guards." Any trace of fatigue evaporated from her voice before she began to give the commands. "Watch this city. No one may leave or enter without you knowing. And send someone to watch over Tula."

"We will continue our investigation as well, my queen. I would like to see the end of this madness myself." The green eyes darkened with some unnamed shadow. Mera could only imagine the torture and pain that would create the effect.

"Of course." She nodded as her fatigue tried to reclaim her. "But first, we must all rest. Everything else can wait until later. And Kaldur?"

"Yes, my queen?" he said. There was no wariness or tired words in the question.

_(ready for war)_

"You have done well. However, it will still take time to inform the rest of the kingdom of what occurred. Garth was quite…" The words lodged themselves in her throat. She had wanted to tell the other Atlantean about Kaldur's missions from the beginning. Both mentor and student, however, had protested the idea. She had listened to their reasons and followed their deception bitterly.

Kaldur sighed. "I do not think he will ever forgive me. The end results make the sacrifice of one friendship well worth the price, however. Forgive me if I cannot agree with that logic."

"He will come around," Siren protested. "After all you've sacrificed-"

"I had lost Tula for him. I am not expecting to find any leeway in his heart." Kaldur turned and bowed to Mera. "My queen, with your permission I retire."

"Yes, of course." She kept her protests to herself. "To rest, the both of you!"

_(may the nightmares stay away)_

The queen's own fears-

_(Siren my sister what sins we've fallen into)_

-remained mercifully silent in the throne room.

* * *

><p><strong>September 25, 9:48 AM<br>****Atlantis**

Kaldur gazed at the armor he had worn under Black Manta's command. The heavy metal infused with whatever technology the human had possessed at the time was a matted black. Scratches were scarred into the material, permanently retelling battles. It had served the Atlantean well. There were no lasting scars on his skin from his time with Black Manta. The lone scar that marred the skin over his heart had grown used to being alone

"You're looking at the armor again?" Siren's voice whispered into his ear. The light pressure of her arms around his shoulders was cool against his skin. The rest of her body, pressed against his, was frigid.

"It will be the last time. The queen may have it now." There were no emotions in his voice. It came as a slight surprised; the young man had expected some form of attachment to grow between him and the armor that worked to save his life.

_(but I'm dead Kaldur is dead Artemis is dead)_

But there was nothing. "If they do not utilize what I give them, then the fault rests on them."

"I'm glad to hear that." Her smirk rested against the back of his neck. The icy cold touch was welcomed. "That other boy probably knows that you're back now. What's his name…?" Her voice trailed off, the façade of a clueless child overtaking her personality.

"Garth," he replied back patiently. "I wonder if he ever had his suspicions."

"You'll find out soon enough. You might want to check on Tula while you're at it. Poor girl." Siren withdrew. Her dark green tail-

_(so natural to her)_

-flicked once in his direction, sending small currents of water to brush against him. "I'll find you later."

His light green eyes flickered close, a ragged breath escaping his lips. He had not faced Garth in years. There had been little time and no desire to speak to him before the mission began. The other had been drowned in his own depression at the time, lashing out at those around him. Kaldur had accepted his share of the attacks. It soon got out of hand, however, and he left the other to his sorrows.

_(all for Tula)_

He imagined his heart throbbing, but he was sure the feeling was the remnants of his wound. The unconditional love he once held for Tula had faded long ago. What remained had been enough to push Kaldur to infiltrate Black Manta's group. Siren had repeatedly said it was nothing more than an opportunity presented, but the unsaid truth was clear.

The armor fell to the ground, the water cushioning the sound. The Atlantean turned away and swam to the doorway of his room. Memory alone carried him to the medical area. Little had changed the hallways. There were a few things that grabbed his attention, but time itself had allowed the palace to be trapped in the same imagery.

It only took a few minutes to reach the doorway of the infirmary. There was nothing different about its appearance beyond the ever changing roster of patients. The young woman he was looking for was lying on the bed farthest from the doorway. Her chest rose and sank with each water-filled breath. Her eyes, however, were wide open, the gaze resting on the ceiling.

"It's weird coming back here, Kaldur," Tula whispered. Her gaze never diverted from the architecture above. "I thought things would be different. But everything is the same."

"You are not the only one to feel this way," he said.

_(how could they have mourned her?)_

"Have the healers said anything to you?"

Tula lifted her arms slowly. Scars that disfigured and mutilated the skin smirked back at the two in their full glory. It was no question pondering if the scars would ever disappear. "They don't like my scars. They want to try and take them away."

"But you will not let them."

"Never."

Kaldur kept the smirk off of his face. He had allowed his face to contort to its presence only a few times before. It was always small and graceful, but the intent behind it could not have been misinterpreted. This time he kept the feeling to himself. "You do look lovely with the scars. Has anyone told you that?"

"No one wants to believe me. Everyone thinks that I'm crazy." She turned to look at Kaldur. Her eyes were glassy, yet held enough determination to make the pupils clear. In a hushed whisper, Tula asked, "I'm not crazy, right?"

A smile rose to his lips. "Never, Tula."

* * *

><p><strong>September 25 10:13 AM<br>****Washington DC**

Bruce's footsteps were silent out of habit rather than need. They echoed with the presence of the shadows draping the hallway, the darkness ready to lash out at the unexpected.

No one was willing to enter the area; Muse's abilities sparked a primal fear in them all. J'onn was still trapped in the illusion of Mars and the Justice League had yet to figure out what Oliver was suffering from. There was little, if any, hope of curing them.

The door opened before him. Despite all of his protests against the idea, the League chose a computerized security system enhanced with magic. Most of the heroes believed that the new prison could hold even the likes of Muse. The ones who knew better could never change the system. Bruce had a good laugh over the fact.

The darkness of the room beyond the doorway greeted him with warm caresses. Very little light from the hallway escaped into the room. It did nothing to offset the prevalent, corroding mood that hung in the air. There was nothing but promised death waiting in those particular shadows.

A glass wall separated each prison cell from the rest of the world. The other walls of the cells consisted of thick metal sheets with the edges soldered together. Each room was careful checked and devoid of any items. There wasn't even the traditional slab hanging from the wall to serve as a seat. The shadows in the corners glared and grin at the occupants. A faint pulse of magic slipped into the air. The static it created lingered for a bit, dancing with the darkness.

Muse was placed in the cell farthest away from the door. Her back was resting against the wall, her head tilted down. Her civilian clothes, while slightly wrinkled, maintain their shape and character. If it were not for the gentle smile on her lips she could have been mistaken for an innocent bystander wrongly pulled into a war.

"You could have escaped Red Tornado," Bruce said. His voice echoed through the room, filling the silence. "There was no need for you to come here."

"I prefer it here. You can hear all of the discord amongst them. It's quite fun." She lifted her head. The dark eyes were filled with amusement rather than the vast amount of power she was using. The precautions that were placed into the prison proved to be some hindrance. Even Muse was unable to use all of her powers freely without worry of consequence.

"You mean Diana's leaving."

"I mean Wonder Woman's leaving. The rumors are saying that the name behind the symbol may change soon. It doesn't take too much for a mother to miss her child." The smile on her face was still gentle. Sometimes, Bruce allowed himself to ponder on that fact.

_(is this what you could have been? what we all could have been?)_

"I hope this is more than a social visit, love. You have appearances to keep up."

The truth came out with little hesitance. "I missed you."

The laughter was muffled through the glass. "You once told me that Superman's true weakness was his heart. Are you sure that it is not yours as well?" The smile faded from her face. "I know you. It's Atlantis, isn't it?"

"Yes and no," he muttered back. "They have always been on the brink of civil war. Siren was right to capitalize on the moment. Orin's disappearance will only add to the fire."

_(and burn and kill and burn)_

"It's not about Orin or the kingdom, Lampads. It was never about them," Muse said. "It's the child."

Bruce lowered his head, careful to not have the rest of his body betray him. Muse was right. The thought of the prince of Atlantis-

_(I don't even remember his name)_

-had always left the vigilante feeling bitter. He could care less about Atlantean politics. But the boy brought out something that Bruce thought he had lost.

_(sympathy)_

"It is okay to feel sympathetic," Muse said. "Remember that he is only one child-"

"And we were only one family. One family to toss away because they thought _it was best_."

"But should another child win your heart when you haven't even met him?" Muse cocked her head to the side, amusement fluttering through her eyes. "We have yet to send them into civil war. There is no telling of what would happen if the child was removed now."

He didn't say anything in response.

_(because she is right)_

"I hope that you are planning to rejoice in Siren's luck. To find a love that would destroy an entire kingdom for her is very rare indeed. I don't think that even you have reached that level, love."

"There will be a kingdom for you soon," Bruce promised. "In time."

_(and how they'll burn)_

* * *

><p><strong>4 years ago<br>****April 2, 1:15 AM  
><strong>**Gotham City**

_There was a dense cold air that settled over the bay. The concrete that separated the water from the city was bathed in moonlight, its hard appearance softened under the glow. Warehouses surrounded the area with little space between the units. A few were marked with lighting fixtures that seem to dim with the passing seconds. Beyond the steel structures the cityscape surrounded the image, containing the bay with its mere presence._

_Kaldur stood at the very edge of the concrete. He kept his gaze down, watching as the water lapped against the concrete barriers. It was a calm scene, yet there was something about it that didn't sit well. It was almost as if the water _knew_ what was about to happen._

"_You are okay, right?" Siren's voice was soft, carrying the love that had forever changed Kaldur. "No regrets?"_

"_Just a simple one," he admitted, lifting his head to meet her gaze. "It is impossible to go on without one."_

"_True." A smirk graced her lips. Her blue eyes danced before him. "I regret a lot about my own life."_

(too late to change you are dead)

"_I can imagine." He looked over the bay again. The coldness had not moved, slowly becoming a reminder of the freezer that he had been trapped in a year before. "You told me once that you were not sure whether to regret this existence or not. That if you were still alive you wouldn't be aware of the potential betrayal that you would suffer."_

"_Being sentimental now?" she teased. It was barely a second before her expression sobered. "Yeah, I remember saying that. I still don't know what to make of this."_

"_I had thought about that." He contemplated his next words before speaking. "I wish that I did not have to know the true nature of my king. He was a father figure to me while I resided in Atlantis."_

"_And this forced you to choose, didn't it?" Siren asked. When words failed Kaldur, she continued. "There's a difference between what we went through. The family stayed together, in life and in death. Kon had no family to start with. But you and Wally and M'gann are betraying people you call family."_

_A chuckle escaped him. "I did not realize that you were so sentimental, Siren. It is… charming."_

"_Nice to know I can still surprise you." She pushed herself to stand on her toes, her lips brushing against his cheek. "I'm glad you chose me in the end."_

_The dagger plunged into the Atlantean before he could respond. The pain was a sharp presence in his thoughts. The metal of the blade warmed under the coating of his blood, only to begin to cool again in the night's air. The crimson liquid rushed down and was already pooling at his feet when he looked. The darkness made it appear black, save for the spots where the moon glanced at the growing pool._

_The bay continued to lap against the artificial walls. Beyond the quiet sound that escaped his throat and the waves, the night was silent._

(I am glad as well)

"_To rebirth," the blonde muttered. Her cheek was resting against his neck, her hands never leaving the weapon. Her breath was cold against him._

"_To rebirth," he repeated. His breath was shallow and the words came out with a struggle. "Thank you."_

_She smiled as she pulled the dagger back. The sudden loss of the blade brought out more blood from the wound. He could feel her hands on his chest, soaked in the red liquid. In a hushed voice, she whispered, "It won't hurt anymore."_

_With a gentle shove, Kaldur fell into the bay. His eyes slipped closed and he welcomed the sudden touch of the icy water. It had been calling for him the whole night, only to be fully heard and recognized when he completed the action._

(a fine rebirth)

_He allowed the cold water to pull him down further. It dulled his senses and diluted the blood that continued to drain out of him. The only thing that he was able to understand clearly was the sad lullaby that was playing all around him._

* * *

><p><strong>September 25, 4:29 PM<br>****Atlantis**

Siren flicked her tail once through the water. The resulting currents swirled before dying down by the doorway. Her eyes were already settled upon the sleeping child. His blond hair played against the water, flowing in time with his breaths. His body was not frail but still appeared to lack the muscles that his father possessed.

"Siren." The name came out smoothly from Mera's lips. The blonde couldn't help but be amused; the Atlantean was still trapped between her identities. "I hope that both you and Kaldur are getting the rest that you need."

"I do not think we can rest yet, your majesty. There are things that still need to be done." Siren placed some fear and hesitance in her voice. She relished in her ability to act, a trait that she had once taken advantage of to stop crime.

"And they will be done." The queen followed Siren's gaze to the child. "Would you like to meet the little one?"

"No. He carries the taint from the Bermuda Triangle." The blonde cast a quick glance to her side, enjoying the sight of the woman flinching at her words. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, your highness? After all, it's very easy to trace his father's ancestry. But yours is a little less… Well…"

The words held the desired effect; Mera was trapped between anger and humiliation, fear overshadowing both emotions with ease. "Are…" The words took a second to collect themselves before stumbling out of the queen. "Are you implying something?"

"Stating what I know," Siren corrected. "I don't think your sister would understand what happened. She's filled with so much rage. It's a miracle that she can even get words out! Now, what was her name…? Ah, that's right! Her name is Siren."

Mera paled at the name, collapsing against the wall. Her hair continued to flow in the water but somehow lost all of its life. Her mouth opened once, only to fall close when words failed her.

"And then there's you. The prodigy of the rebels, the _daughter_ of the leader sent to kill the king of Atlantis. You alone would have been the one to save them all." A smirk crept up her face as she spoke, giving her words a sharpened edge. "They would have given you anything afterwards. A queen by something beyond simple marriage. Undisputed champion among those who've been cast out.

"And then you went and fell for some stupid blond Atlantean."

Mera was quick to attack despite her tears, which melted into the water. The tangle of emotions quickly gave way to rage. Her eyes held nothing else but the one emotion. For a second they appeared to have turned red before the rest of her body coursed with her power. Speed and ferocity burst through, sending her directly at the mermaid.

_(so fast so painful)_

Siren was quick to dodge, only to curse herself when she looked at the queen again. One of the redhead's hands was enveloped by a deep red magic. It flashed once before hurling itself after the mermaid. The water was searing with heat from the spell, bubbling as it tried to escape the conflict. Mera was quick to create another ball of energy, rage beginning to corrode her with little care. Siren could see the emotion eating away at the life in the queen's eyes.

It was then that the blonde stabbed Mera with her dagger. The metal entered smoothly, marring the flesh just above the breast. The surprise alone was able to dispel the concentration and the magic. The energy went out with little fanfare. Mera was stunned, her eyes following the remaining bubbles upwards. It was only when blood began to float through the water between them that the Atlantean realized what had happened. By then, it was too late.

"You know?" Siren's voice was hushed. She cast a quick glance towards the sleeping child, and allowed a stray thought to wander-

_(will it work?)_

-before pulling her attention back to the redhead. "There's something about you that I really admire. You gave up your whole family and possible glory and wealth for a blond guy who had claim to the throne. You gave it up for love.

"You didn't even bother trying to convince Orin to join your side. He had more than enough reason to want to join the revolutionaries. His costume is _his prison clothing_. What better way to remind the people of Atlantis of what they had done to him?" she said, a smirk playing on her lips. Her hands were still holding the blade down.

"Siren." The new voice was light with insanity. It was not unlike the kind that haunted her family in both life and death. The memories imbedded with the thoughts were a cruel reminder of what they had suffered through. The blonde remembered the moment where she had almost used the dagger in a moment of pity for the female Atlantean. It was the girl herself that had stopped Siren from giving her a swift death.

"Tula, are you doing well?" Siren's blue eyes never left Mera's as she spoke. There was no need to glance at the other's direction to know what was encased in her eyes.

The other girl took her time in answering. More blood escaped into the water as time passed, clouding parts of the hallway. When Tula finally spoke, her words were indirect. "Garth doesn't like my scars, I think. He went after Kaldur once he saw them."

"That's unfortunate. But is that all that he did?"

"No." The Atlantean brought herself towards the two. Her gaze followed the movement of the blood, tracing the delicate swirls it created against the water. "Do you know what he did before that?"

"What, Tula?"

Mera's consciousness was fading as Tula whispered the final words. The glee in the girl's voice was not the malicious one that Siren had expected. The blonde herself carried bitterness since she had woken on the other side of death. Where Siren would have had anger in her existence, Tula had only innocence and faded love. That quality, however, did nothing to offset the brunt of the meaning.

"He went and stabbed the queen!"

* * *

><p><strong>September 25, 4:35 PM<br>****Atlantis**

"How could you?" Rage was the only thing that could be heard in Garth's voice. It gave him power and strength at the price of carrying the terrible burden; he had failed Tula, and allowed her to become mutilated.

_(blame not all mine)_

Kaldur had already blocked his spell. There was no emotion in his face; it had remained that way since Garth started accusing him. Instead, Kaldur simply spoke. "You know that I was spying on them, Garth. Tula knew that too."

"You let them scar her!" He threw another spell, despite the knowledge that it would never reach his intended target. His anger was too blinding to attack properly, yet was demanding some sort of release. It was a dangerous position that killed many warriors before his time.

Kaldur sighed. He allowed the spell to fly past him and strike some rocks in the distance. "By the time I had infiltrated their network, she already had quite a few scars."

"But you allowed-"

"_She_ allowed, Garth. She had fallen for her own marks." The words were soft and emotionless, yet Garth was sure that he heard something within the other's voice. It was an unidentifiable component. The young man wasn't even sure if he had ever heard such a thing before.

_(probably laughing enjoying Tula's pain)_

Another spell was already leaving his lips.

"Can you hear yourself?" Kaldur asked. "You are firing spells at me because you cannot come to terms with the truth. Tula likes her scars. She loves her scars. You cannot take that from her."

"She wouldn't be like that if you had saved her!" Garth snarled back. He could feel his magic rushing through his body, originating from his heart and leaving through his hands. The burning sensation left no pain on his psyche. All the Atlantean was able to focus upon was the other before him.

_(has to pay)_

Kaldur didn't react to the accusation. Garth had been expecting a retort of some form, even if it was a spell cast out in anger. Receiving nothing, however, made the pain all the more unbearable. The image of Tula tracing over the scars with her eyes had already been burned into the Atlantean's head. But it was Kaldur's choice of words and actions that added untold details. Gone was the innocence that should have appeared around Tula. There was only insanity left.

"You loved her," Garth said.

The green eyes widened with the words. The figure tensed, only to allow his stance to fall apart as confusion set in. "I do love her. And years ago, I was in love with her. But now she is a friend."

"Because you replaced her with that blonde whore-"

The temperature of the water surrounding them suddenly dropped to an icy level. A small current blasted over his shoulders, causing the black haired man to turn away. The touch of water had felt like a hand running across his shoulder blades. It should have been impossible, but Garth suddenly found his imagination reminding him of the horrors of the sea. One could never discount the legends fully.

"Siren is _not_ a whore. She does not deserve such words against her."

"You don't even know who she is. A lost memory could conceal a lot of things. For all you know, she is a murderer." The words were eerily calm as they left his lips. The cold feeling had snuffed out the rage that was carrying his magic.

Kaldur's returning smirk was grim. "She is also a victim to circumstance. Does that not evoke some sympathy?"

"No. That girl you brought could be here to kill us all. That claim of a lost memory could easily be a shield to hide behind before she strikes us all down."

_(and what if that's true?)_

A cold hand of realization ran over his spine. "Kaldur-"

"A killer?" Kaldur muttered. His eyes glazed over as he spoke. "What man hasn't become a killer? We are still caught in an attempt to survive in this world. Taking out the competition is simply one of the ways we use to stay alive."

"Can you not hear yourself?" Some of the rage quickly turned into fear. The image of the scars was still something that Garth could not stand to think about. But hearing what Kaldur had to say threw everything into a mess, waiting to be untangled. Tula's insanity and Kaldur's coldness were pulling at the remainder of the trio. He was suddenly alone, the last one who had yet to change to fit the twisted world.

_(can I get them back?)_

"We're talking about that mermaid killing you! You don't know a single thing about her life before you met her. She could want you dead," he said, keeping his anger to a minimum.

The temperature of the water plummeted further still, but this time it was accompanied by cruel laughter. The ocean around them joined in with the woman's voice. The landscape around them crept closer to the figures, touched by darkness Garth had never seen before. Words, filled with the malicious glee that made him fear for his former friend's life, surrounded them both.

"Hello, Garth." The blonde mermaid appeared by her lover's side. Her eyes were an icy blue, contrasting to the teasing care that filled her voice. "I don't think we ever got a proper introduction. You were, after all, chasing down my lover instead of caring for your dear Tula. But, then again, you don't understand her anymore."

"Understand her?" His hand balled into a fist. "She's lost herself-"

"Really now? Tell me, Garth, do you have any scars of your own?" The mermaid was smirking at him. "Do you really think you could understand her when you have no experience yourself? Even love has its limitations."

Garth shuddered at the implications. Still, his own thoughts prevailed and sent another retort through his lips. "Love is supposed to heal scars."

"Now you're just going for clichés. Really. I was expecting better." She turned to Kaldur. "Love, he's insulting me and Tula. Can you take him out?"

"Of course."

"Kaldur!"

Siren cast a glance at Garth. "Kaldur would do anything and everything for me. Even death was only a speed bump. I doubt that you love Tula as much."

"What have you done to him?" The pain in his voice was impossible to ignore.

"I love him. There's not much else to be said." The smirk softened and she brought up one hand to trace Kaldur's jawline. "Well, at least not now. Take care of him, love. Someone needs to stop this traitor."

"Traitor?" Garth repeated.

"Oh, hasn't anyone told you?" The smirk returned. She flicked her tail towards his direction. A burst of icy water followed her movement, blasting against his skin. "Every single guard is looking for you. Almost killing the queen gives you that kind of status."

"Wh-" The word faltered before leaving his lips, his mind quickly piecing together what little information he had. "You attacked the queen. How-"

"Let's not get our facts mixed up Garth. _You_ attacked the queen," Siren said. "If you're lucky, Tula won't kill you when she sees you."

* * *

><p><strong>September 25, 6:32 PM<br>****Washington DC**

Wally chewed the end of the blue ballpoint pen with little thought, his emerald eyes blankly staring at the papers sitting before him. Ink covered most of the surface in the form of his messy scrawl. The work was condensed, yet there was not a single mistake smudged out from frustration. He had a talent in chemistry that made the assignment barely worth the amount of time he was placing into it.

His eyes cast a quick glance to the other. Aquaman was sitting on the opposite side of the room, entertained with nothing but the newspaper before him. The chaos of emotions that flitted across the man's face was entertaining to watch. Sometimes it was the pain that aged the Atlantean, leaving unnatural wrinkles that worked as scars. At other times, it was grief that contorted his features into depression. Wally was unsure of where that particular emotion came from. His best guess believed the stress brought the man to depression the same way it sent Diana back to her home.

_(but no remorse because you don't care)_

The speedster shifted his gaze down again. He brought the pen out of his mouth and used the remaining blank space to write out his answer. Little thought followed the work; his mind was preoccupied with the request that Kaldur-

_(Kraken what a monster)_

-had passed on.

It was a simple task. His former team leader had offered Wally a chance to decline. They both knew that he wouldn't, but the gesture was appreciated.

"Wallace?"

The college student looked up. Aquaman had made a move to get up from his seat, but hesitated before he could fully rise. In his hand the blond was clutching the newspaper, the headlines condemning what little remained of the Justice League. It was accompanied by a photo of Red Tornado carrying a woman away. The details of the image, however, were lost to the repeated, angry creases that the other heroes had left behind. For a brief moment, Wally wondered how many had seen the news from the same paper.

He shook his head, focusing his attention back to the Atlantis king. "What's up?"

"My curiosity had brought out an interesting inquiry. I was wondering…" Aquaman paused for a moment, hesitancy dictating his silence. His eyes darted to the newspaper in his hand. His grip on it tightened, the sound of the crinkling paper filling the room. "Why did you come back?"

Wally's answer was out before the blond could attempt to explain his question. "Because you guys need me. Bruce-"

_(flinches not from remorse from fear)_

"-told me about the situation with Diana. Couldn't let the lady suffer." A smirk appeared on his lips, fueled by good intentions rather than the malicious thoughts hiding away in laughter.

_(what you don't know won't kill you yet)_

Aquaman offered a smile in return. "You've done quite the noble deed."

"Well, someone's gotta help the princess in distress," Wally said. "It wasn't really fair how Superman was stopping her from going home." He mentally kept a bitter smirk from appearing on his lips.

"We need as much help as we can get. Superman was right to demand for someone to take her place." The anger in the king's voice was ready to accuse the speedster of betrayal with little other thought.

"Whoa, calm down!" Wally leveled his emerald eyes with Aquaman's glare. "You know that it's wrong to keep Diana from going back. She's tired."

"We are all tired."

"How many times have you gone back to Atlantis?" Wally countered. A quick movement of his hand turned the neat pile on the table into a scattering of paper. "You go and rule your kingdom, but you also see your wife and son. Don't tell me you deprived yourself of that."

The king opened his mouth to respond, only to slowly close it when nothing came out. His anger melted off of his face. His eyes, however, flared with what it had managed to retain. It was only a few moments later when he said, "You have done us a favor, Wallace."

_(a favor unwanted)_

"I try." He turned back to his homework, his emerald eyes casting one last calculating glance on the blue ink. The work proved his answers correct, as always. There was no need to check it again.

_(he doesn't need to know that)_

One by one, the papers were collected and arranged to their proper order. The pen returned to the redhead's mouth. The bite marks already carved into the plastic fitted well against his teeth with worn practice. Wally didn't bother sparing a glance at the other; it was obvious the man wasn't going to move anytime soon.

He placed the papers into his bag, careful not to disturb the box already resting there. The pen returned to the abyss of loose items. Wally closed the bag and finally allowed his attention to return to his target. "I'm going to see Bats right now. Something about new mission assignments. Want to come?"

The newspaper crinkled as the grip on it loosened. "I will."

"Great!" False happiness filled his face without giving itself away. He pulled one of the backpack's straps over his shoulder, careful not to jostle the contents inside. "Let's go!"

_(can't know won't know what a fool)_

Aquaman nodded in consent. He placed the newspaper on the table, his eyes briefly lingering upon the picture under the headlines. There was no trace of remorse in the blue orbs. It did not surprise Wally, but it did make him think.

The weight of the box pulled against his shoulder. The thought of the contents reminded Wally of the warm, sticky blood that covered his arms when he committed the act. It was as crimson as human blood-

_(would think Atlantean blood would be different)_

-and was as easy to clean. It had not been Wally's first kill and was not particularly memorable, excluding the fact that the victim was not human. Even the grotesque nature of the death couldn't bring life to the recollection.

Kraken-

_(how we've fallen Kaldur how we've fallen)_

-had smiled when the redhead offered the rest of the body to him. The death was unnecessary, but the sight of blood alone made up for whatever protests the Atlantean had. Siren had watched the exchange with her own smirk. She was the one to offer the empty box for his use.

_(my souvenir my trophy)_

The head of the Atlantean guard made no noise from inside of the box. The redhead recalled the taste of the blood with little prompting. A genuine smile settled over Wally's features and remained there as he led the king of Atlantis out of the room.

* * *

><p><strong>September 27, 12:48 AM<br>****Atlantis**

His body was aware of the restraints before he woke. That did not stop Garth from pulling at them once his conscious noticed their existence. The metal held strong against his attempts, allowing for almost no movement. Its touch was colder than the water, accompanied by a cruel bite.

It was moments later that his consciousness became fully alert of his surroundings. A haze had been left to run against his basic senses, making him distrustful of his initial judgments. Parts of his mind jumped from one conclusion to the next. There was no line of logic to dictate the movement, leaving the Atlantean a spectator to his own thoughts. When his mind finally returned to normal, he was ready to question everything once again.

_(no can't be right)_

"Are you well, Garth?" Kaldur's voice floated in the water, lacking any genuine care for the prisoner. "Your fighting form is still strong, but you seem to lack the ability to control your emotions. Is there something wrong?"

"Bastard!" Garth hissed. He pulled his arms forward to hit the Atlantean, but the metal was as unforgiving as it was harsh. "How could you? To me? To Tula?"

"I have done nothing to Tula," the other said. "I was not the one to give her the scars. I was not the one to encourage her to love her look to the point of insanity, although I can say that I did offer the advice to find the best of the situation."

"Is that all? You left Tula at the mercy of Black Manta for _years._ How long was she gone from Atlantis? How many times did those monsters torture her?" The rage in Garth's voice grew with each word. In the years that Tula was missing, the same questions were repeated in the Atlantean's mind hundreds of times. It served to encourage him through vigorous training sessions and past the point of exhaustion many times.

_(not enough never enough Kaldur saved her not me)_

Kaldur chucked at the questions. "I was there to comfort her on those horrible nights. I cleaned her wounds and healed her to the best of my abilities. It was Tula herself who told me to stay, to work my way into Black Manta's trust. She begged me to wait for the time when we would be forever free of that man.

"What is interesting is that, even in sanity, she never once asked for you."

The chains of the restraints barely rattled as he tried to attack again. Part of Garth called for his magic. The rage that was filling and growing within him wanted quick retribution. If it were not for the fact that he was convinced that Kaldur had betrayed them, he would have felt regret whispering against his ear. Anger still would have been predominant but there would have been a bitter taste left behind at hurting a friend.

But Kaldur could no longer be a friend. The Atlantean Garth knew would have known what to say to make others feel better. He would have said white lies and unbelievable truths in order to calm those around him. That Atlantean of the past would have risked his life to try and make things work. It was always others before himself. That man would have placed Tula's safety before his mission, no matter what she had said. It would have been that man that Garth would have felt regret over.

The thoughts were a moot point; there was no magic waiting to respond to the anger. No matter how far his senses reached, there was never a response. Not even as a young child had magic denied Garth. But something had happened.

_(Kaldur)_

One of the most basic things that Garth had since birth was suddenly gone, the blame easily falling upon his once friend. Magic had always been an extra part of him that interpreted the world. It was something that he never had to live without and easier to trust on than others. And somehow Kaldur had snuffed it out without leaving a physical trace. The ramifications were terrifying.

"We cannot allow you to do any more magic. It is already bad enough that you have almost killed the queen." There was nothing in Kaldur's voice that hinted at any emotion. The only thing that prevented the tone from being flat was the false cheeriness dancing with the syllables. "It would be horrible if you hurt the young prince when he comes to visit his mother. Although, by that time, they would have probably moved you to the dungeons."

_(so it's not an illusion)_

Garth turned his head to face the ceiling once again. The familiarity of the infirmary had already attempted to wash over him, but the antagonizing mood had won out. Information that the Atlantean had stored away resurfaced with punishing facts. The most glaring one-

_(only prisoners who were at the brink of death sit amongst the sick and injured)_

-was laughing at him. The lack of pain was a glaring contradiction that began to gnaw away at him.

"What did they give me?"

"Nothing. What remains of your magic is trying to heal you. One of the things I have learned during my time on the surface was that even the body can only take so much pain before it shuts down." The gentle smile never twisted into the smirk that Garth was expecting, but it was still prevalent in his voice. "It seems as if your magic is being selective in what pain you can feel. The amount that came from our fight alone would overpower any of the guards here."

Hazy memories blinked in his mind, otherwise refusing to wake up. "What kind of dark magic was that?" he asked, the question slipping out before he could rein his thoughts in.

"Nothing dark. I thought you would appreciate the… handicap I placed upon myself," Kaldur said. "It was just the manner of how I executed my attacks. It's another reason why studying on the surface was much more beneficial."

"I owe you a rematch," Garth hissed.

Kaldur nodded solemnly. "Another life, maybe. But for this life, I do not think it will be possible."

"They cannot hold me forever. I will avenge myself and Tula."

"I realized. You, however, have become a liability for the kingdom. You have worked for Black Manta-"

_(no)_

"-and brought about the deaths of many good Atlanteans," Kaldur said, his eyes never leaving Garth's. The serious undertone of his words gave them an illusion of truth before Garth could stop himself from believing.

"And you think you can place the blame on me, Kaldur? You think for one second-"

"These are not the crimes you are truly guilty of, yes. But this was the route I accepted for your punishment. It will be well suited, either way." Kaldur drew his gaze away from the other, his blue eyes focusing on something in the doorway's direction. "And you should know about the state of Atlantis. The king is constantly away. The queen in now in a coma. Of course, the prince is too young to know what to do. You can imagine the chaos waiting to break out."

_(no not that you wouldn't_

_would you?)_

"You would really let Atlantis fall?"

"Yes I would. Things have changed." The blond Atlantean cast one last look at Garth before swimming away. "Another time, Garth."

"Is it my turn, Kraken?" The new voice of the conversation was quiet, but the owner of the words was unmistakable.

"Yes, Tula," Kaldur answered back. His voice was fading into the corridor that was waiting outside of the large room. "It is your turn."

Even in water, which naturally distorted light with simple movement, it was hard to miss the glare of the dagger. The blade was silver while the handle appeared to be made of a naturally black material. Garth was unable to tell-

_(you monster)_

-whether there was any magic imbedded within the weapon or not. The dark feeling that was washing over his senses was as likely to have been an outside force as it was his own fear.

"You tried to fix my scars," Tula whispered. Her head was kept down, her gaze distant yet trained upon his armor. It was impossible to miss the tears in her voice. "You don't understand anymore, Garth."

The cold blade was suddenly resting against his neck. Uncertainty crept into his thoughts.

_(water or blood? what is that?)_

"It won't hurt after the first time." She smiled at him, the first one she had offered the Atlantean since her return. There was only happiness on her face as her eyes closed, the smile becoming the center point of her face. Garth was unable to find any hint of the pain that the girl had suffered through in the past years. Rather, it was a younger version of her that was making promises that she wanted to keep for the sake of others.

_(Tula)_

"It won't hurt a bit." As the last sentence sunk into the area around them, Tula pushed the blade into his neck. "You just need some scars to get better!"

* * *

><p><strong>So, promised notes:<br>-Kaldur did go undercover in Black Manta's operations. It just happened to end faster and gorier.  
>-SirenArtemis accompanied Kaldur, disguised as a black haired assassin (partially for no reason, and partially to pay homage to Jade). Once that was done, she used another disguise and became a blonde mermaid who "lost her memories."  
>-Tula's alive!<br>-Kraken/Kaldur and Siren/Artemis did not just inact an evil plot to take down Atlantis by stabbing the queen and blaming it on Garth, along with planting evidence that "proves" that he works for Black Manta. :D (Yes, that was sarcasm. I forgot how it doesn't show up in text well.)  
>-The whole backstory for Mera is adopted from canon comics, specifically "Brightest Day" arch. That's where I found out that she has a sister named Siren. And then I plotted...<strong>

**Hopefully I can get the next chapter out in an actual timely manner...**


	10. Harpy

**First off, thank you everyone who has been keeping up with the story, and more importantly, my really long and erratic updating scheduling. I am a horrible person. I had such a good amount of this chapter written before the year turned to 2013, and then... Yeah. I should have probably made a resolution or something.**

**(The good news is the end is in sight! I actually have a decent outline of all of the chapters that remain, and it's just a matter of finding time to write it all! Now where does one find time...?)**

**As usual, I do not own Young Justice. (But apparently my (ab)use of the characters is nothing like their original owners. Really, cancelled?!)**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p><strong>September 27, 3:09 AM<br>****Gotham City**

Cassandra stood amongst the shadows of the cave, her eyes carefully flitting through the space before her. The ragged edges watched her in return. Within the texture, there were pockets of darkness tucked away into the rock. The surfaces that had managed to get a passing glance of light were harsh. The cold air itself became an afterthought of the environment.

Her thoughts drifted without preamble, as they had done throughout the night. The image of the box that Wally had carried earlier pulled was constantly reappearing in her mind. There was nothing about the box that was unusual; it was a white, unmarked cardboard box. The redhead's excitement wasn't out of place either. Most people would have assumed he had received some long awaited item. Cassandra had never been naïve enough to believe that there was something innocent in such a box.

Moans filled the walls, breaking the hold her thoughts had on her. She closed her eyes and waited.

"You… little slut." Pyroead's words were tapered with the sound of his breathing. There was pleasure in all of his noises, although the emotion couldn't quite erase the quality of pain from his voice. "Always was… a little slut… right bird boy?"

_(always passionate)_

"You know, you don't have to be down here listening to this," Wally said. His arrival was sudden and quiet, the trademark of all of Bruce's students.

"It's nice," she replied back.

"Most people would feel awkward listening to it."

"Most people would." Moans continued to fill the air. Some stray words found their way to the two sitting within the shadows. Neither of the former heroes gave the noise much thought, allowing the silence between them to sit.

_(but can never last forever)_

"You said that Red Arrow called you a slut before." Cassandra's words were brunt, yet her soft voice managed to taint the heaviness. She never wanted to be malicious to the redhead; the transformation he underwent was horrible enough.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Only during sex." The facts were nonchalant, slipping from his lips as if they were nothing more than a new breath of air.

Her face remained neutral as she digested the words. The concept was not hard to understand; her time as one of Gotham's protectors revealed that other world. Curiosity grabbed ahold of her thoughts and the next question slipped out. "So what makes it different now?"

Bright emerald eyes turned to face her, captured in memories that were carved into his mind. A quiet mood settled over his features. There wasn't any anger or sadness apparent in the speedster, a sharp contrast to the teenager that she had once comforted.

_(another thing lost)_

The only odd thing was that Wally took a longer time than usual to answer back. "I know better."

"It's not the…" Cassandra paused, her eyes quickly darting as she thought of the word. "…intent?"

"Well, it is partly that. You can never forget that part of it, really." The redhead made an exaggerated shrug, his eyes not following the action. "But why would that matter to me? I'm not in it for love."

_(not anymore)_

"Sylph lets Pyroead call him that," she said. The moans echoed in her mind, filled with more passion than they had earlier. "Should he not be bothered by it?"

"Those two are different." Wally tossed his head back, indicating the direction of the source of the noise. "I think that it gets Sylph all hot and bothered when Pyroead says it."

"But they why does he say it to you too?"

The moaning faded into the rock walls. Suddenly there was nothing to buffer the question, the residue of the words echoing lightly against the shadows. Cassandra did nothing to aid the mood. Her patience had yet to even consider leaving her, instead worrying that her companion would disappear.

But the redhead only stayed silent for the passing minutes, his eyes dull from the hanging question. When he finally spoke, the words fell heavily. "Because I just prefer things that way."

"You want to remember," Cassandra said. "But you never forget. It's already a part of you."

Wally' gave a weak chuckle. "Yeah. I guess I can't change that, huh?" He lifted his right hand and combed his hair back. His eyes sparked in amusement. "So why are you sticking around here? All you've been doing is just watching."

The answer was quick to slip out of her mouth. She waited to see if the lie would trip over itself when it came out. When it didn't, she kept her surprise to herself. "I watch for the sake of my family. Someone has to remember the ghosts."

_(because there's nothing else left)_

"Huh." Wally cocked his head to the side, puzzlement spreading over his features. "I never really thought about that."

"You have other things to do," she said. She looked towards the lighter shadows of the caves. "I must leave."

"Already?" There was wanting in the redhead's voice, wishing for the companion that Cassandra had proven to be. But it was impossible to miss the quick glance he gave the darkest shadows. Something from the pits of the caverns remained in the emerald irises when he turned back. "I can walk you back-"

"I will be fine." She offered him a small smile. "Go."

"Ah…" Wally closed his mouth. He looked puzzled for a second, only to quickly wash out the emotion with relief. "Thanks. How about we grab lunch soon? I know this restaurant near Central. Just something normal."

A part of the vigilante wanted to offer automatic consent to the plan. The speedster had become a big part of her life once he took up training with Lampads. The training was rough, but made full use of Wally's science-made gifts. It was after his training sessions that he came to her. Nights were filled with questions and tired answers, sleep never granting them a true rest. Cassandra could not provide every single answer. Her silences, however, worked just as well for him.

The redhead's hiatus as a hero was enough to change the daily routine into a monthly chat. The bond itself never weakened, but Cassandra's information slowly became outdated. It was only through Dryad that she found out about Wally's arrangements with Pyroead and Sylph.

Logic would not allow her to answer back favorably. "I cannot. The Justice League is looking for me."

_(but our time is running out)_

"Oh. Right." His face fell for a second, only to come up again. The happiness in his eyes, however, had faded. "Well, take out isn't too bad either. I can get a candle for the shadows if you want."

She smiled back softly, her jaded features attempting to erase themselves for the sake of the other. "That sounds good."

"Great! Then tomorrow- no, today. Right, time differences and caves and-" The words stumbled out, the rest of him coming to a complete halt. "I should… yeah. Um, I'll talk to you tomorrow about dinner. Not sure if I'll time, with classes and-"

"Don't worry," Cassandra said. "We all have our duties."

"Right. Well, I'll see you tomorrow! Hopefully!" He offered her a wave before disappearing into the shadows. Only some footsteps proved that he had been there at all; he had not kicked up any dust and his speed barely left an afterimage. Cassandra couldn't help but admire his talents once again.

"You two would be a cute couple." Dryad's voice ghosted over her. He slowly removed himself from one of the masses of darkness, his black clothing holding onto the aura that accompanied the shadows. "The problem is that he's straight as a circle and you don't particularly care."

"Is it wrong to be only… friends?"

"No, nothing wrong with that. I'm just amazed, really." He crossed his arms, exposing a long vine that was wrapped around his forearm. "Then again, I didn't get laid until I was dead."

A corner of her mouth quirked upwards. "You didn't fall in love until you were dead."

Dryad chuckled. "That too." His smile died down as the remainder of the chuckle echoed through the walls. "Does he know yet?"

"I do not think so." Suddenly, she wanted to look down the passageway Wally had disappeared into. She resisted the temptation. "He's too focused on Red Arrow to notice."

"I'm not surprised. His obsession with that man is infuriating," Dryad said, shaking his head. "How much longer do we have?"

"A week? I…" Her voice hitched. "I cannot tell."

Dryad sighed. His posture was suddenly weighed down with pain and unhappiness. "I figured it would be as much. Just… try and keep us updated when you can. I think we all want to say our goodbyes."

_(if only I could stop it if only I could help more)_

She could say nothing more than two words. The training of her childhood would not allow for anything more than that. "Of course."

* * *

><p><strong>September 27, 12:05 PM<br>****Washington DC**

The Kryptonian kept his eyes closed, his head trying to drown out the screams with willpower alone. He despised the moments where he was confronted with the secrets of Justice League. There was always the overarching idea that allowed the secrets to exist, the single moral that drove him to do everything that he did. It was an unshakable belief in justice despite all that he faced. He had never negotiated with the ideal. Not even Bruce and his realistic view of the world could taint what Clark had learned from the Kent farm.

_(screaming so much screaming)_

That didn't make his task any more appealing.

His sky blue eyes shut themselves tighter, his cape falling around him as he stopped walking. Fragments of memories flashed through the darkness. His mind compensated for the rest, completing sentences and conversations that he had hoped to never hear again.

_("Please someone help us."_

_murderer murderer that's what you are murderer_

"_You let them die Clark."_

_murderer murderer MURDERER)_

It was pointless to tune them out and plead ignorance within his own mind; the words came back during his dreams.

The justification always ran through his head afterwards. The wording had become exact and meaningless, falling pass his careless lips at the mere thought of it. He knew that the emotions behind the words were still valid-

_(they have to be valid)_

-and it was just the words themselves that had lost meaning.

It was enough to bring Bruce back. It wasn't enough, however, to prevent that horrible night from happening. But there had been no other way to go about the business. Sacrifices-

_(that's what they are just sacrifices sacrifices for the greater good they understand right?)_

-had to be made at the very instance and the only ones suitable were the members of the Wayne family. There was no other way around it. It could have been considered one of Superman's best moments: he allowed logic to dictate his choice and he allowed the family to die in order for the greater good. The decision was disheartening, but it was the right choice. The Kryptonian was sure that even Bruce would agree with it.

The fear that had coursed through Clark when bodies started showing up was unparalleled. The exact thoughts that haunted him were burned into his memory, never healing in the passing years. His unshakable moral was suddenly wavering. Bruce Wayne, who had never given into his emotions unless logic agreed, had given into his base rage and was slaughtering others. While his reappearance after death alone was enough to raise questions, the murderous intent created an enigma that no one wanted to solve.

There was a collective wave of relief that slipped through them all when someone suggested that it was not actually Bruce who was killing. Theories began to range from insanity as a side effect of coming back to life-

_(but they don't have a heartbeat you've listened)_

-to a puppeteer working in the background. None of them could be proven, but it was enough. The question of morality fell to the side. Batman became another unfortunate enemy that had to be taken care of.

"If you would like, Kal-El, I can take over the task. There is no need for you to do this as leader of the Justice League." Dr. Fate's voice floated in the air, magic undoing the weight of the Kryptonian's thoughts. It was a quality that made Clark uneasy.

"It's fine, Fate. This helps remind me of what has happened."

"But if these reminders torture you, they will destroy the rest of the League. You are their leader," Fate reminded the Kryptonian. He was calm, his steps showing nothing but his collected sense of being. "There is little that we can do about the girl. She has chosen her path, knowing what destruction would be set upon the world with her choice."

Clark nodded once. The memory of the cold tray of food had not left his hands, which closed around the air as they tried to grab the illusion. "It never gets any easier."

"Sometimes, it is not meant to." The golden helm nodded in the direction of the dark hallway. "But we must remember that this is all for the greater good. Becoming lax because of our emotions can only lead to chaos."

"It just-" The rest of the sentence was suddenly lost in his throat. Clark paused and collected his words. However, when he attempted to speak, an overwhelming pain from his heart stopped him.

Fate kept a steady stare on the Kryptonian. "This is painful for you, I understand. I have the wisdom of centuries to tell you that it must work this way. We do not want to throw Earth into chaos."

"Right," Superman said. His voice did not shake, but the word came into the air unstable nonetheless. "How is-"

"He is unhappy with the situation, as usual. I suspect more time may show him the truth of the matter." The golden cape resting on his shoulders swirled as the man-

_(is he a man or just a spirit?)_

-turned around. "Come. There is a matter that requires immediate attention."

It was impossible for Clark to miss the painful weight in the tone. "What happened?"

"King Orin has not reappeared since yesterday. I have also found-"

"_Justice League."_ Bruce's voice-

_(should be dead shouldn't be here shouldn't be dead)_

-filled the walls of the corridor with low, dreadful tones. _"There has been a security breach. Assemble in the main hallway _now."

The golden helm shook slowly. "I was hoping to show this to you alone to prevent panic."

"Panic?" Clark repeated. "What happened?"

"An Atlantean guard had been decapitated sometime within the last few days. The killer has recently deposited the body in front of the statues at the main hall. I was unable to secure the area without tampering with the scene." Fate's voice was emotionless, yet remained powerful. There was no remorse trapped between the words. The unease that the Kryptonian had experienced came back, pounding in his ears.

"And now Bruce knows."

_(how will he react was it Muse will it trigger his memories?)_

"We should look at the scene. With more analysis, it may be possible to trace this back to the source." The other nodded towards the direction that led back to the main hallways. "Shall we?"

"Yes."

_(so easy to agree)_

Clark couldn't help but allow his hearing to linger on the screams. They had persisted throughout the whole conversation, the voice growing hoarse. It was still a painful thing to listen to, despite the three years of experience he had with the particular prisoner. Even subjugating himself willingly could not wear away the blunt force. It was only his single, strong moral that was able to carry him through the daily event of bringing the food.

_(sorry Zatanna it's for the greater good)_

* * *

><p><strong>~4 years ago<br>****March 18, 7:48 PM  
><strong>**Washington DC**

_Bright emerald eyes followed the pacing figure. His tongue was unable to call up any words, stunned in the moment that was too fast for the speedster to comprehend. Even his ever reliable quick quips failed to form._

(how could you?)

_His uncle might have nudged him. Wally wasn't sure, although he could feel the faded presence of a handprint on his shoulder. All of his attention followed the older redhead. At first he had been unsure of what made him stare. He had known the truth longer than the Justice League had even thought something was wrong with the archer. The speedster was there during one of many despicable acts that Red Arrow-_

(can no longer be Roy because was never Roy to begin with)

_-had committed. What little the archer had revealed to the League was nothing compared to the bigger truth._

_It took the speedster a moment to realize that it was the fact itself that bothered him._

(not everything never everything)

_Emerald eyes quickly swept through the room, relieved that no one else was present. He couldn't help but wonder if Green Arrow would have changed anything if he was awake from his coma._

"_Red Arrow-"_

"_What?!" Wally couldn't see pass the white lenses of the other's mask, yet it didn't take much imagination to see the irises inflamed in hatred. "Going to make fun of the clone? Tell me that I'm not good enough for your little club?"_

"_There's no one left in Young Justice."_

"_Oh, right, it's time for the pity party for the stupid one of the group," Roy said, malice filling each of his words. "Kaldur is actually doing something with his life. That stupid bitch-"_

(M'gann is more than you are)

"_-is a prisoner here. You. Are. Alone."_

_Silence filled the room, wrapping itself around both occupants with little care of strangulation. Wally refused to answer the taunt, however, and took pleasure in the way the mood coiled around them both. It had been less than a full year since they had last slept together. The anniversary of Jade's murder was closer. Wally could only hope that Red Arrow would admit the truth._

_However, it appeared that the other was just as unlikely to talk as the speedster was. His lips had contorted into a thin, tight line. Wally could easily recall the moments where the lips were open, inviting, and spilling lust into his ears. The bed was the only other witness for those times. Afterwards, it had been the only source of comfort and warmth in the night when the archer disappeared._

_Wally was only partially surprised when it was his voice that broke the silence. "You didn't tell them everything."_

_For a brief moment, pure hot rage flashed through the features of the other man. Wally watched at the body went rigid at his accusation. The hand on the bow quickly tightened its grip, ready to lash out but stopping just short of action. A snarl adorned his face. For one brief second, Wally believed that he brought out the same thing the drugs had: unexplainable, uncontrollable rage._

(same thing killed Jade)

_Wally's words, however, still tumbled out of his mouth. "Well?"_

_The speedster was subjected to an angry glare, only to watch it dissolve into a mocking grin. "You're just upset that I'm not sleeping with you anymore."_

"_That's not true," Wally replied back, his voice jagged with pain. He had been unable to forget the torment that the memories brought. It was something that he didn't want to admit-_

(residue of love?)

_-but he found it hard to detach the feelings from the recollections. The simplicity clung onto him, chuckling as it watched him stumble through the day. Everything was tainted in the redhead's life. "I'm still alive. Jade-"_

_Red Arrow's motions were fluid, years of experience-_

(only thing that's really his)

_-giving him the ability to surprise the teenager with his speed alone. With little thought the man notched an arrow onto the bow and aimed for Wally's neck. The fury simmered to a flat line, his concentration following the movement of the speedster's Adam's apple._

(just going to kill me too?)

"_I don't know what you're talking about." The archer's voice was inhumanly calm, yet managed to have the heavy tone of a threat. Wally wondered if the man's sight wavered behind the mask._

"_Jade. Lian. I can't believe that you already forgot them." The tip of the arrow brushed against his throat. Wally entertained the possibility that it had drawn some blood without his notice. It had, at the very least, pierced some of the bright yellow of his suit; the metal of the arrow was warming from the contact with his skin. "You wouldn't have done that."_

(can you be so cruel?)

"_I'm gonna say it again." The archer drew out each word slowly, careful to pierce each syllable. "I do not know what you are talking about."_

_Wally could feel tears pricking his emerald eyes. The implications of the statement-_

(you would forget me too)

_-were not surprising. He was prepared for such a thing in the long run, his emotions gradually building a wall to protect him from the painful truth. He had not expected to deal with it all at once. Red Arrow's confession to his drug habits was a grand surprise by itself._

"_Alright," the speedster muttered softly. "If you say so."_

_He allowed the quiet image of the archer disappear from his sight, his mind retaining the feeling of the metal tip against his throat. His brilliant emerald eyes tried to remain focus on the wall. It wasn't long before it blurred before him. The thoughts, searing into his brain-_

(I knew better but why?)

_-were as painful as they had been the day the speedster burned Jade's body. This time, however, Wally didn't have naïve adrenaline coursing through his body. This time, he had all the time in the world._

"_Wallace." Batman's voice broke the trance. The wall rearranged itself before his sight, one of the many cracks that Pyroead and Dryad had left creating a heavy contrast to the light colored walls. At the end of the crack was where the once-vigilante stood. His arms were crossed and the infamous cape draped the figure in shadows. Wally was sure that the eyes behind the white lenses were focused solely on him._

"_I was stupid, wasn't I?" the teenager muttered. "When he began to confess, I wanted to believe that he was going to tell everything. Why only tell half of the truth? Why admit the most destructive thing about himself and then neglect to mention anything about Jade?"_

"_He only found out he was a clone because of the drugs." The frown on the man's face grew deeper. "A particular mix seemed to have interfered with some of the brainwashing substances that Cadmus gave him. His handler couldn't keep making him forget their rendezvouses."_

"_Handler?" Wally asked. There was a dazed quality to his voice, but neither him nor Batman said anything about it._

"_Crock was the original handler. Now, only Red Arrow knows who it is."_

"_But you're the world's greatest detective. You could find out easily." Points began to quickly jump about in the speedster's head. Pain fell to the side as the plan began to form. Memories were quick to accompany little tidbits of knowledge. For a moment, he could even feel the pulsing rage that had allowed the others to kill._

_Batman nodded once. "You would have to get to the handler tonight if you want to beat Red Arrow."_

"_Give me the place. That's all I need." Wally closed his eyes. "And I'll leave the League afterwards. Or hiatus. Whatever Superman would allow me to call it so I can just leave."_

"_They wouldn't find out even if you stayed."_

(but the guilt won't I have guilt?)

_Wally chuckled softly. "Yeah, but I'm sure there's some rule saying that League members cannot have murderous intentions towards anyone else."_

* * *

><p><strong>September 28, 9:43 AM<br>****Washington DC**

"Do they know that you visit me?" Muse's voice floated through the air, amusement making the words light. She stood with her back against the glass wall of her cell. The shadows gently caressed her figure, gathering around her legs before rising to follow the rest of the contours of her body. "I'm surprised Superman hasn't caught on."

"There's another prisoner in the building," Bruce said. "The masking spell that Fate used for the area was never present until now. I suspect that the spell may have been there for years."

"It could be wearing because of my presence. My powers don't have the patience that I have." The woman rested her head against the glass, her eyes turned towards the ceiling of the large cell. Bruce followed her gaze into the shadows of the unseen surface. While he was unable to visually perceive the ceiling, another unnamed sense whispered the dimension and feel of the cold metal. Electricity mingled with magic before brushing against his awareness. It was a strong yet false sense of security that the rest of the Justice League had fallen for when planning the prisons. They were relying on pain to contain the prisoners.

_(a change in morals?)_

"We will find out soon enough. Until then, the attention is diverted to Orin's disappearance and the decapitated Atlantean guard." The humor of the situation was kept out of his voice, yet it somehow still tainted the words. "I was unaware that we were going to draw in all of the attention at once."

"Kraken was just the start of it all. Children are always impatient, and we've been waiting for years to take them down." Muse turned her head, and their eyes met. "But you knew that already. That's why you've been pushing to destroy their reputation faster these past months."

Bruce gave her no sign of agreement or disagreement. Experience allowed her to read into all of his intentions, whether loudly proclaimed or silenced through action. "Your last act helped move things along."

The chill of the room became louder as the silence between the two figures appeared. The door to the hallway was brought close for once, and the shadows that Bruce kept close thrived in the environment. A lone flashlight that he had brought was the only light source. It was angled towards the floor between the figures. The metal floor shone back with a brilliant gleam, the reflection attempting to bring some pale glow to the rest of the room. Instead, it only highlighted the gray walls while naively leaving the corners of the cells to the shadows.

Muse turned her head back towards the ceiling before the question left her lips. "How is Harpy, love? He hasn't come around and visited yet."

"Barry's afraid of a mental breakdown. He's keeping constant watch," he answered. "He worries about the kid more than the parents do."

"You're going to have to be more specific about who you are referring to, love. You and I worry over him enough to make up for what those _things_ forgot to give him." Any trace of humor in her voice evaporated as she spoke. "I should have killed them-"

"He is out of their house," the once-vigilante said softly. "They are no longer our concern."

"For now, yes. Still, I do not believe that Harpy would mind too much if I were to kill them."

"We have our own task, Muse. If you actively start to ware away Fate's spell, we can find out who he's keeping prisoner." As he spoke, the flashlight flickered once. It repeated the action before the light disappeared completely. The room and cells were suddenly trapped in darkness, leaving no escape for anything that was caught.

"I will try. I'm afraid that I already know who is in there. It may explain all of the screaming that Zatara does against Fate."

Bruce nodded once, despite knowing how useless the gesture was in the dark. He had deduced the truth with little trouble. However, he allowed hope to blind him with wishes that Clark Kent had not fallen so low.

_(what happened Kal?)_

He could feel his wife's eyes falling upon him through the darkness. "Is it possible to give prisoners blankets? It's a bit dismal here."

Bruce said nothing to the request. His hands were already open behind his back, waiting for the seemingly impossible to occur. The sound of shadow cutting through the cape slipped through the air. It was quickly followed by the flutter of the smooth material into his waiting hands. He brought it forward and held it out.

"Your cape?" she asked, amusement carrying her words through the glass barrier. The feeling of a hand ghosted over Bruce's glove before the cape disappeared from his grip. "I forgot how warm it can be. It really does have more function than dramatic effect."

"Work on the spell. I rather not find out that they were willing to kill another person." He turned and walked towards the doorway. The lingering question-

_(how did you get through the glass the impenetrable prison?)_

-dissolved away at the sound of the door automatically opening.

"Visit me again soon?"

Blue eyes turned to look back to the cell. The light of the hallway had filled the area as best it could. Muse had wrapped herself carefully with the cape, the jagged ends resting on the ground around her. Her face was soft and filled with a long lasting sorrow that had never left her.

_(Paula)_

He answered quickly. "We'll see."

_(but we both know better)_

* * *

><p><strong>September 28, 6:29 PM<br>****Gotham City**

"Why?"

The single word lingered in the air, the echoes it left behind in the caverns growing faint. Orin watched the other through the bars of his cell. The young man's body-

_(so little has changed hasn't it?)_

-did nothing in reaction to the question, the focus of the emerald eyes remaining on the newspaper pages on the table. There was darkness in the red head's character. The caverns did not add the quality to him; it merely highlighted something that was impossible to see anywhere else.

_(so he was like this whole time)_

The cavern that he was imprisoned within was about the size of the main hall of the Justice League headquarters. The ceiling was naturally curved to a sphere-like shape, stalactites dripping down with shadows as decoration. A few lanterns, scattered around the edges, provided the only light. The soft glow reflected against the metal of the cage Orin was placed in. The bars went into the earth with little thought to the laws of nature. The Atlantean had enough room to stand and lie down, although he was doing more of the latter as time passed on. There was a dark, wood table only a few feet away that served his guards. A matching chair rested next to it, and a lone lantern sat on the surface.

"Why, Wallace?" Orin repeated. There was anger in his voice now, except it only bubbled within him as he was ignored again. It compensated for the loss of power in his voice. It was not a surprising trend; being denied all but the bare minimum of water and food, the strength of the king of Atlantis had been fading. "Well?"

The speedster finally looked up. The green eyes took their time assessing the Atlantean before meeting the gaze. Orin couldn't help but flinch. There was a quality to the look that not even Black Manta could copy. The villain's hatred towards Orin was nothing compared to whatever was behind Wallace's eyes.

"Why don't you tell me?" Wallace finally asked. An echoing crinkle filled the cave after his words, the newspaper folding under his hands.

Orin's gaze refused to leave his captor's as he spoke. "They've tricked you. They talked to you when you were at your most vulnerable, and made you believe that they cared. I believe that they also convinced you to leave the Justice League because they needed to weaken us as a whole. They'll kill you after we are dead."

"'Vulnerable'?" Wallace said. "You made it sound like they asked me at a specific time."

"When they had come back, they used the confusion-"

"No. No. When you said it, you implied that it was at a specific point of time. As if there was no other time in the world when they could have asked me." The newspaper under his grip crinkled again. "You think there was a time that I was most vulnerable."

"Wallace-"

"_When?"_

"You stopped being with Red Arrow!" The truth spilled past his lips before he could stop the words. Orin quickly shut his mouth, his fear attempting to reign in every other part of him. Wallace, however, said nothing. There was patience in his features as time passed. The anger had lessened, but something unidentifiable coaxed more words out of the king within minutes. "You were so dejected. And you were no longer around Red Arrow. It became obvious that something happened between the two of you."

"Obvious?" A chuckle bubbled in the young man's throat, tainted with mocking glee. "If you were all paying attention, then you would see how Red Arrow didn't care. You all would know that he led me on to believing he loved me back. He was _using me_ for sex!"

"He- he didn't!"

_(you know he did how obvious how you pitied)_

"Liar." The rage had returned, calm and collected as it had been before. "I might have taken it badly but the level of interaction had already been decreasing when we were seeing each other. He made me do it a month after Superboy came into our lives. It couldn't have been obvious and yet _you still knew._"

Words attempted to rise up his throat, only to have bitter bile keep them down. "I…"

"You didn't care? You thought it was beneath you to fix something after you allowed Batman's family to die?" An unnatural chuckle followed Wallace's questions. "The king of Atlantis in denial? I should feel honored."

_(like them)_

"You sound like them now," Orin said softly. "The… the speech pattern. They talked so differently when… when…"

_(when they came back)_

"They were the only ones to reach out to me. I was resistant at first. But can you really blame someone from breaking down when the people I was supposed to rely on refused to move?" Wallace asked. A gentle smile was now caressing his face. Orin had never seen anything of the like before; the wild swing of emotions from the speedster brought emotions from far ranges, but nothing so close and gentle.

"Wallace-"

"It's just cracking under pressure. That's what you all did. Crack and rationalize your sins." His emerald eyes flickered within the light of the lantern. For a second, a shadow tainted the color so that all Orin could see was a dull, lifeless green staring back at him. "It was okay when you did it in the Watchtower, right? You said that they deserved it. Isn't it fair to say that you all deserve it?"

_(we deserve it all deserve it)_

The Atlantean chose not to respond. His throat had grown dry from speaking, a fact he failed to notice until his anger lessened. It was a quiet yet powerful reminder that he had little strength to continue such a conversation, much less explain his side. The reasoning was still solid to his own mind-

_(liar)_

-and it was enough to allow him to hold out. Hoping for Wallace to break free from his belief, however, was a mistake.

Orin closed his eyes. The sounds of the caverns filled his ears, all carrying the undertone of the darkness that he continuously saw. The undercurrent had grown from a mere background sound into a constant pest. Instead of growing use to the nameless thing, the king of Atlantis could feel his sanity beginning to break down. He was desperately clinging to what he could.

A few chords of a lullaby suddenly struck the air. Wallace's voice, soft with the remnants of the faint smile, played the tune out. There was no controlled rage hiding behind the notes. It was peaceful.

That was before Orin could hear its undercurrent. It mocked him with a sinister grin, knowing that no one else could see it. The feeling it left raked claws through his back and ripped open the scars he obtained five years ago. For a moment, he could even feel the blood dripping down his back.

Orin screamed.

* * *

><p><strong>September 30, 5:41 PM<br>****Central City**

Wally closed his eyes. A rush of air slipped past his lips, sudden and unsure. The blue pen that he was holding was waved rapidly back and forth between his fingers. There were papers scattered before the redhead, each full of tight black text and tighter blue scrawl made only moments beforehand. The young man's green eyes were the only signs of life in the scene. Meticulously, they scanned the blue ink of a page before flitting to the next one.

Barry shook his head, his own lips allowing a sigh to escape. It was not an uncommon sight to see his nephew pouring over his homework at the kitchen counter. Wally had often refused to return home after school was let out, preferring to spend nights with his aunt and uncle. Both parents and Iris refused to complain about the accommodations. Even the wonders of college did nothing to change the habit. At times, Barry believed that the only reason Wally agreed to go to college in California was because his powers allowed him to return to Central City.

He was careful not to let himself sigh again. Instead, the man focused on eating the protein bar before him. Like the rest of the heroes, Barry found himself to be overworked and not always compensated. There had been a time in his career where he wouldn't have minded. However, he had not been expecting the current situation. The nights had grown longer and anything beyond the mission seemed to be out of reach. There were no longer smiles of citizens saved from their perils, nor was there a wife staying up late into the night waiting for his return. Heroic duties had taken over his life.

_(but worth it right?)_

The blond looked back at the college student. Wally had placed the pen down to the side, busying his hands with gathering and ordering the papers. "Another easy assignment?"

"Yeah." The boredom was heavy in his voice. "I thought being a chem major would be harder." The redhead looked up, his eyes almost lifeless from his academic life. "Was it like this for you?"

"Not exactly," Barry said, a half chuckle following the words past his lips. "I didn't have any powers to make assignments go by fast."

"I don't need any speed for this. It's simple." Wally placed the pile on the table. "Maybe it'll be a challenge once things at the League pick up."

The frown that contorted the older man's mouth came instantly. "Wally, you shouldn't think like that."

"Don't see why not. I need some more excitement in my life. If B-man didn't ask me to help Diana, well, who knows?" The redhead gave a halfhearted shrug. "The League needs all the help it can get nowadays."

"Is that why you join the League?" Barry heard anger rising with his voice. "Excitement? Wally, there are lives at stake-"

"I didn't say it was the only reason!" Wally snarled back. The green eyes flared with anger. "It was just one of the reasons, okay?"

"Really? And what were the others?"

The young man-

_(when did he grow up?)_

-glared, his hands balling into fists next to his homework. For a few seconds, Barry wondered if the other would just get up and leave without another word. It was unlike Wally to leave in the middle of an argument without getting in the last word. But after Bruce had trained the sidekick-

_(always a sidekick or something else?)_

-there was something unexpected in the redhead. Something that reminded Barry too much of what Bruce had been like before.

"Truth. Isn't that supposed to be one of the ideals of the Justice League?" The answer came out suddenly, surprising the older hero before the meaning sank in. Wally, however, seemed unwavering as he finished speaking. His whole face steeled as the seconds began to pass. "Well?"

"You still want to find out about what happened to Bruce."

"_No._ Why did you automatically jump to that?" the redhead asked, an accusation seeming to tail the question. He kept the follow up to himself, leaving Barry to quietly wonder what his nephew wanted to say.

Barry remained quiet. He quickly recalled his thought process, unsure how many jumps took place in such a short amount of time. The scientist within him had successfully pulled off the feat many times before with startling accuracy. This time, however, only had a few pieces of the process.

_(don't want to admit it?)_

"I…" The blond paused, unsure of what to say next. "I thought that you still wanted to know."

"Yeah, but really? Risk my life because Superman won't air out his dirty laundry?" Wally glared at his uncle. He flexed his fists once, knocking into the blue pen. It quickly rolled to the side of the table and fell off. Neither of the speedsters moved to pick it up. "I'm not that stupid."

"I never implied that you were."

"Are you sure?" the redhead asked.

The frown on Barry's face deepened. "Wally-"

"No, it's okay. That's what everyone thinks." The young man rose from the table, the chair scraping against the floor loudly as it was pushed by the back of Wally's legs. He gathered the pile of papers. The green eyes refused to look up from his homework. "I'm not like Bruce. I don't dwell in my intelligence. It makes sense for them to look at my jokes and assume things."

Now there was guilt pitting the blonde's stomach. "Wally, no-"

"Really, Uncle B. Don't bother." Wally tucked the papers under his left arm before reaching down to retrieve his pen. "It's okay. Really."

Barry closed his eyes in frustration, an answer quickly forming on his tongue. His mind tried to organize his thoughts just as fast. The image of Bruce-

_(no)_

-however, managed to stop him mid-thought. The emotions associated with the lone image-

_(anger sadness guilt)_

-came flooding back with startling clarity. He could remember the days, starting at the second Oracle's call came through the communication system. The closing memory was of Bruce's body, as frigid as his personality, placed into one of the metal canisters for almost a year of storage.

_(because I didn't stand up?)_

He banished the thought just as quickly. "There are-"

Barry opened his eyes. The kitchen was empty.

* * *

><p><strong>October 1, 12:48 AM<br>****Star City**

The redhead cocked his head to the side as he watched the figure running through the passageways between the buildings. The shadows cast by the moonlight were unable to hide the anger radiating off of the man, the darkness darting alongside the clumsy movements of the archer. He was clothed in hospital garb, his footsteps echoing with the sound of shoes a size too big against the concrete. The boy's-

_(can't be anything more)_

-eyes were darting across the landscape. There was a struggle behind the darkened irises, merging information almost a decade old with the sensory bombardment that appeared before him. The boy paused every few seconds from the weight of the confusion. Wally allowed himself to wonder if the boy had even bothered to plan his escape from the hospital. If he was to judge based on Red Arrow's actions alone, it was rather unlikely that Roy Harper had even the wisps of an idea in his head. Impatience seemed to define both of their existences.

He sighed softly. Faint traces of chocolate tingled in his mouth, the remainder of the candy bar he ate minutes before. What had once been joy at eating the sweet blend had long fallen to a dull reminder of happiness. The constant need for food had ruined his love for the finer tastes of life. The speedster had yet to lose complete euphoria from blasts of savory flavors, yet he was no longer able to be overwhelmed by such things. First time experiences with new foods were always ruined through the constant need to eat. Barry had never mentioned such a thing being an issue, leaving the teenager at the time to discover the curse within the powers.

_(fine things ruined so fast like Red Arrow like Roy)_

The weight of the gun on his belt did nothing to ease his nerves. He was not like Pyroead, who handled them with such a cold stance that even his fires seemed to freeze rather than burn. It was almost second nature for him to pull the trigger. Sylph showed more remorse, although there was still something in the blue eyes that took glee from the moment. Wally wasn't sure if it was hints of insanity that slipped into the man when he was under the Justice League's spell.

Wally was different from his two lovers.

_(don't lovers require love?)_

Guns frightened him. Death frightened him, despite the fact that he was constantly surrounded by such beings. But the speedster had been able to kill several times in the past few years. He enjoyed the act, relishing the way the blood tasted like copper on his tongue. There was never a nightmare afterwards.

He sighed. The anticipated kill wasn't any different than the previous ones. It was only the meaning behind that made him pause. It was only that.

_(really?)_

He turned to the end of the roof, only the edges of several large crates looking back at him. In a burst of speed, the redhead flew over the pile and landed on the concrete. The only noise made by the movement was the light tap of the soles of his sneakers touching the ground. The holster banged against him impatiently.

"You okay, kid?" Pyroead's voice, full of his usual confidence and arrogance, washed over the speedster. "You were up there for a while."

"Just thinking." Wally brought his right hand to the cold metal, refusing to look up at the other. "You're sure Red Arrow's gonna follow him?"

"Like a puppy. Funny, really. He never was the type."

"You're assuming."

"Sylph's tracking the bastard. We've waited too long for this moment." Pyroead's voice was suddenly smug. "Not going to fuck it up over something small."

"Right." The redhead carefully took the gun out, the metal warming under his touch. There was an uneasy comfort that he found while holding the firearm. It seemed to fit perfectly into his grip despite being a new gun. It was a comfortable weight and had yet to do anything but what Wally wanted it to do.

_(made for each other)_

"You sure you'll be okay, kid? You've been quiet."

"You know, Pyro? There's one thing that's been bothering me lately," Wally said, finally looking up. The other man was under one of the few lights in the compound. He had donned a black leather jacket over a white shirt that clung to his body. The jeans for the night were a faded light blue, his own set of guns hanging off of his belt. It was a familiar ensemble for the man.

"What?"

Wally brought the gun up, leveling the barrel to his target. "You keep calling me kid. I _hate_ that." As the last word left his lips, the redhead pulled the trigger. The noise that followed burst through the empty corridors that ran between the buildings.

Roy Harper, who had just turned into the corridor and was standing behind Pyroead, collapsed to the ground. Wally couldn't help but feel surprised-

_(no remorse never any left)_

-that the teenager hadn't made a sound.

Wally lowered the gun slowly, his eyes steeling as they focused on the dead figure. There was no elegance hidden in the teenager. His fall was like his clone's movements: jerky, angular and harsh. There was little compassion in his face, although some confusion had managed to carve itself in before the bullet hit. He had fallen forward, chest against the ground and limbs flailing around him. The vigilante, however, was still trapped in his youth, no doubt preserved by whatever invention Lex Luthor helped created. Accompanying his young age-

_(only thirteen)_

-was a lack of knowledge. Without the vital years of growth, the boy appeared innocent.

_(sorry am I actually sorry?)_

Footsteps pounded against the pavement. Wally turned his head and tightened his hold on his gun. He could feel Pyroead approach him, almost hovering but never actually crossing the line. It made sense to the redhead; while the other would love to be within the depths of the action, he was only a helpful observer this time.

"Roy-" The rest of Red Arrow's words failed to appear as he came into view. His gaze first fell onto Wally, the man's face twisting under some unnamed emotion before he turned away. Horror dripped onto his face afterwards. "You- you-"

"This is the first time I've seen you in years, Red." Wally said. He placed the gun back into its holster, unconsciously tracking where the weight of the cool metal went. "I asked Bats how many times you visited Green Arrow since he went into his coma. You know what he did?"

Red Arrow instinctively reached for his quiver. The younger redhead allowed himself to smile, watching as the world around him froze. Even the night air stilled in anticipation.

_(too easy)_

Wally walked over to the frozen figure, noting how there was still the slightest hints of movement in the vigilante. The hand that he had once known well was partly curled around the tail of one of his arrows. The bow Red Arrow had brought with him was rigid in his other hand. Yet all the speedster could focus on was the mask. The white lenses shielded the eyes, but that didn't matter; Wally knew from experience the emotions hidden behind them.

Barry Allen was thorough with teaching Wally when the mentor relationship had begun. Despite his lack of experience, the blond man was a very good teacher. It was the first lesson, however, that stuck out the most to the newest speedster. The older man had separated the use of their powers into two categories. The first one was the ability to speed up the body. Everything, from direction to duration, had to be calculated almost exactly. But somehow the mind was allowed to remain in the normal sense of time, allowing the senses to understand the world around them as they moved. The second category was allowing the mind to run as fast as the body. Judgment of the environment came at lightning pace because they simply had the time to anticipate.

_(but when the mind follows you're alone)_

Wally walked around the archer. With some rare nimbleness, the speedster pulled the arrow out of the man's grasp without touching the hand itself. He gathered the remaining arrows into his arm. Every few moments, emerald eyes strayed to notice the position of the hand. The changes that came about were slow, never once within the realm of possible threat. The impulse, however, was not something that he bothered to avoid. He could even admit that there was some sort of sadistic pleasure in the knowledge.

The speedster walked back as quickly as he came. With some care to not to set off any of the trick arrows, he placed them on the ground in a pile. There were about twenty altogether. Each had a different tip, only hinting at the force hiding within them. Wally picked a few to examine with a critical eye. The technology and science that created them was an appealing feature. It was the only reason why he did not simply toss them in the archer's direction.

_(would be fitting)_

The world slowly returned to normal speed. Red Arrow's hand turned into a fist, realization clouding over his horror. Wally already had his gun out, the barrel leveled with the near-identical head of its last victim.

"Bats _laughed,_" Wally finished. "You are so ridiculously single minded that you forgot about the man that cared for you. You forgot that you had a _child._"

"She wasn't my-"

"Fucking hell, Red! She looks a lot like you for a bastard child!" The aim of the gun wavered for a second, but was just as quickly returned to its target. "Jade actually loved you. Did you know that?"

The clone sighed loudly, his disbelief clear. "She was an assassin. You think she fell in love with me or something?"

"Yes."

_(we were such fools_ )

The speedster could feel tears pricking against his eyes. Still, he continued to talk. "She fell the same way I fell. And no mattered who it was, you just kept leading them on."

"I didn't-"

"Please," Pyroead said. Laughter and disbelief mingled in his voice. "I've known you far too long. You and your original. It would only surprise me if you _hadn't_ turned out this way."

For the first time, the archer focused his attention on the third person present. The hand on the bow tightened as he did. "Jason-"

"For the last time, it's _Pyroead_. Can any of you dipshits get it right?" There was a growl underlining his voice. "And you knew that this was coming, Red. I told you I would get back at you one day."

"And you're using-" Red Arrow raised his free hand to gesture at Wally. "-this kid-"

A gunshot rang out. The surprise it drew onto the archer's face was fast and lasting. His hand unconsciously reached up for his shoulder, checking to see if there was any blood. His gaze never left the speedster or the gun.

"Don't call me kid." Wally's words were slow and precise. Despite of his emotions, the gun held steady. "Don't use me as a fuck toy and then still call me a kid."

"That thing is using you!" His gaze returned to the pyro. "And you're allowing yourself to be used."

"And you killing Jade with a bunch of arrows is any different?"

"You just killed Roy!"

"I did. But I never led him on." The speedster jerked his head towards the cooling body. "He didn't know what kind of life you led, did he? You didn't tell him about your drug days? Or how you killed-"

"_Stop saying-"_

"Then admit it!"

_(please)_

Wally couldn't stop the surge of relief that washed over him as he saw Red Arrow's face contort in pain. Still, his grip on the firearm tightened. "Well?"

"Fine, you want it so fucking bad? I'll tell you! I…" The archer stuttered slightly, his hand lowering the bow as he tried again. "I killed her."

Wally shook his head. He finally received the truth that had long been denied, but it still wasn't enough. "Why did you kill her?"

Anger surged through Red Arrow again. "Why? Kid, I was on drugs! High as a kite!"

"Not everyone kills someone else when they're high." The speedster forced himself to ignore the overwhelming pressure to cry. Despite all of the time that had passed, he had yet to get over the memory.

"Well if she didn't-" The words died suddenly, and rage hardened to indifference. Wally could see the archer's grip on the bow loosen before tightening again. "She should have known better."

"We all should have, shouldn't we?"

_(now it's all gone)_

The younger redhead shook his head. "I was hoping for more of an answer, but I'm willing to make do. Later."

Red Arrow opened his mouth, but the protest died before the words could even form. The bow fell to the ground with a clatter. The man followed soon after, crumpling in a manner similar to his original.

Sylph smiled softly, the syringe carefully poised in his hand. The light above him highlighted his smile. For a moment, Wally could see the young child that had given the same smile to an audience in a circus. "That was more satisfying than it should have been."

"Just imagine what beating the crap out of him will feel like," Pyroead said. "This fucker had it coming for a long time."

_(no more escape)_

Wally nodded once. He tucked the gun away, and turned his attention back to the arrows at his feet. "You guys can bring him back. I'm going to clean up the rest of this mess."

"You sure?" Pyroead jerked his head towards the cooling corpse. Blood had begun to pool around the teenager's body. The surrounding shadows had swallowed up the rest of the body, only allowing the head to be seen in the light.

"Yeah. I'll see you guys later," the redhead said. His eyes remained on the pile of arrows, stealing a few glances at Roy's body. There was no reason for him to question the death.

_(really?)_

"If you're sure, Red."

Wally counted his heartbeats. By the time he got to ten and looked up, he was alone with the corpse. There was no sign that anyone else had been there.

He eyed the arrows again. While he did not know what each of them contained, he was able to make a few educated guesses. His pending degree in chemistry along with the training Lampads put him under had done enough. Everything else broke down in front of him in simple categories and equations.

"Sorry, Roy," he muttered. "You wouldn't believe me if I said that this was for your own good, would you?" His hands found their way into his pocket and produced a book of matches. He was quick to strike one to life. The flame danced at the end of the stick.

An image of Jade's body-

_(here's revenge)_

-flashed before his eyes.

Wally shook his head, a whimsical smirk pulling at his lips. With some care for precision, he tossed the lighted match on top of the body. The flame caught onto the garments easily. He could have counted the seconds it took before the fire turned into a blaze. The light it produced ripped through the night, scaring the shadows of the corridors away.

The young man wasn't paying attention to that, however. Instead he slowly gathered up the arrows into his arms quietly, his back facing the blaze. Emerald irises never once turned back to the growing fire. Before the flames had reached the face of the corpse, Wally was gone.

* * *

><p><strong>October 1, 3:12 PM<br>****Gotham City**

_(it's time)_

Cassandra checked her wristwatch again. Alfred had gifted her the piece months after the rest of the family had died. It was an intricate accessory, made for a granddaughter rather than the child of assassins. But the smile on the butler's face that day only strengthened what had already been confirmed.

_(always a family)_

She looked up again. The gravestones that were scattered around glared back at her. The cityscape surrounded the graveyard, peaks of buildings slipping over the brick walls. It brought her a sense of peace that she had never found anywhere else.

She turned to the tombstone before her. Alfred's name had been carved into it with methodical care. There was even some love hidden behind the movements, preserved in the stone yet unseen by anyone who didn't know. It was a stark contrast to the gravestone that memorialized the Wayne family.

"Cass!" Wally's voice pierced through the cemetery. He appeared only seconds afterwards, his arrival only marked by suddenly dented grass. "What are you doing? The whole League could see you-"

"I have to leave soon."

"Well, yeah! The League-"

"I can't see them anymore."

The redhead froze at the words. He looked at the gravestone once, his mouth furiously trying to find the words. Cassandra waited silently. Her own attention was turned deeper into the cemetery. In the last five years she had developed the habit of looking in the general direction of the Wayne tombstone. Her visits to the actual thing itself, however, only made a small handful of moments.

"Why?" The simple word tumbled out of the young man's mouth. There were tears in his voice, although it was obvious neither would be shedding any.

Cassandra closed her eyes. Her grasp on spoken language stuttered back to her. "I…" She paused. "I don't have enough hatred."

"What?" he hissed. "How- what- How is that even possible? You know what they've done. _They killed-_"

She kept her voice leveled. "I have let go of my hatred. They will suffer, even if I am not there."

The emerald eyes turned away from her gaze. "I don't understand."

"Hating the Justice League… I cannot continue to do it forever. I hate what they did to my family. I hate that they went unpunished for their crimes for so long. But wishing for revenge…" Cassandra looked at the wristwatch again. The cold metal suddenly weighed more than it had ever did. "I don't want to be lost to hatred. I can't be the monster my father meant me to be."

In the corner of her vision, she could see the redhead mouthing the words. She turned her attention away.

_(too entrapped in revenge?)_

"I… I don't want to understand," Wally finally muttered. "Before this mess happened… Before all of this shit, I wouldn't have. I would probably be naïve and stupid. But now? Now I know too much."

"I'm sorry."

He turned away. Cassandra kept her gaze on the redhead. She had expected him to run away in order to deal with the teaming emotions. The other possibility was silent contemplation, a rarer and direr version of his thinking. She hated the mask that he put on when the thoughts got too overwhelming.

_(it can only get worse)_

Wally was the one to break the silence. "That means you're leaving."

"Yes," she said softly. She fought off the need to look at towards the Wayne grave.

"I wish you told me sooner." He shook his head, his emerald eyes focusing on the tombstone. "We could have had more dinners."

"You had your own things to do," she reasoned. "And I needed time to say goodbye to the others."

The redhead turned to look at her, the emerald eyes gleaming from unshed tears. "Was there a reason I was the last one?"

_(because it means the most)_

"I…" Cassandra retracted the word. "You are not like the others. You're not-"

_(completely gone to vengeance to dreams)_

"-dead."

He nodded once. "I… I understand."

"Thank you."

Silence sat around the two figures before slipping into the rest of the graveyard. The fading sunlight sent rays to spot the area. It was followed by the rapidly cooling air of autumn, which wrapped itself around them. Cassandra remembered how Alfred loved those times of the day. He braved his own dying body in order to enjoy the change from day to night.

"I… I'll find you once this is over," Wally said, the words rushing from his mouth. "If I haven't completely lost my mind."

"That would be fine," she replied. "I'll be waiting."

Wally's face broke out into a smile. "Great! We could go see the world if we want! I mean, I've already seen most of it already- except that was at super-fast speed and-"

Cassandra chuckled softly, ignoring the pulse of sadness that was going through her.

_(I'm sorry Wally)_

* * *

><p><strong>October 2, 12:00 AM<br>****Washington DC**

The fear running through Barry's veins was paralyzing. It took all of his effort to keep his breaths as shallow, quiet gasps.

_(should have known never to be forgiven)_

In a single bought of courage, the speedster had snuck into the prison area within Justice League Headquarters. He wanted to see Muse, something he had denied himself since her capture. It was only recently that he allowed himself to satisfy the craving, planning on how to sneak past in overly elaborate plans. In the end, he trusted the simplest answer to be the key. He was careful in his planning stages; The last thing that Barry needed was for Superman to believe that another hero had become a traitor.

_(especially after Zatarra)_

Barry had, in the end, used his powers to vibrate through the door. It had come as a surprise to see it actually work; the security measures that were in place were dense in both quality and quantity. He had refused to dwell on the fact and its implications. When luck was agreeable, he rarely argued against it. Instead, he had walked to a corner of the room and looked towards the woman's cell. It was pitch black but he found some sort of peace being within the confines. He had hoped to find the words he needed after entering. When they refused to come, Barry simply stood there. He couldn't remember the last time he felt at peace.

That was before Bruce Wayne entered the room. He had walked in with such an ease that it didn't take Barry long to piece together the truth.

_(no)_

The hero was unable to leave without drawing attention. He could only watch the events unfold, hoping that his fearful heart didn't give him away.

"You shouldn't get restless, love," Muse said, her voice playful. "It isn't healthy."

Bruce waited as the door to the prison closed before speaking. The plunge into darkness had no effect on him, a sharp contrast to Barry's struggle to remain silent. "Harpy captured Red Arrow."

The speedster forced his surprise to remain silent.

"I expect no less from him. It's only a shame that we cannot adopt him for ourselves."

"There are worse things."

Muse laughed. "Worse, my love? The things that we suffered through have so many other words to describe them."

"What we went through was… special."

"Very special. One would hope that friends do not betray them," she said. Her voice was playful, yet nothing could mistake the cold rage that underlined the words. "Betrayal that kills is worse. Denying the truth is even more so. Remember how that felt, love?"

There was a moment of silence in the room. Barry's inability to see elongated the time, each passing second making him fidget more. He tried to count softly in his head. It didn't take long for him to give up; his voice had almost brought the numbers to life from his fear.

Finally, Bruce spoke. "It would have been better if we remained dead."

"It would, wouldn't it? Even the image of Fate wouldn't be so bad to die to." She paused, and for a second Barry thought he could feel her breath on his neck. He kept himself from crying out in fear. "Hoping that they would own up to their mistakes would have been better to die with. Instead, we were brought back to find Hell waiting for us."

Barry frowned as the words wash over him. There was something glaringly obvious about the conversation before him. There was a jagged edge to the words, being too rehearsed and still unnatural. It was as if-

_(they know)_

The lights were thrown on without warning. The speedster blinked a few times, eyes adjusting and his mind struggled-

_(fight or flight fight or flight can't fight)_

-with what to do next.

"I want him to look at me."

Barry's eyes snapped open without thought. The rest of his body froze involuntarily.

_(Wally?)_

The redhead speedster stood before him, his face grim and arms crossed. He was wearing a red sweatshirt pulled over a white shirt and jeans. All of the pieces were distinctly civilian clothing that spoke nothing at all about the hardships that he had claimed to face as a member of the League. What drew in Barry's attention, however, was the blood splatter that had socked into the cloth.

Wally turned to his left. Barry's eyes followed, widening at the sight of Muse on the other side of her prison. When he spoke, his voice was full of icy indifference. "They'll notice when he goes missing."

"There will be more panic, yes." Muse cocked her head to the side, a cold mask washing out her other features. "But nothing to care about. It's almost complete."

"Of course, Mother."

_(no no no)_

The redhead turned his attention back to the frozen hero. "I wanted to believe that you weren't a part of it. Why would good old Uncle Barry let one of his closest friends die? Why would he do the obvious wrong thing?

"But you just disappointed me," he said. He turned his emerald green eyes away, focusing on one of the corners of the room. "How is it that _all _of you failed?"

Barry wanted to open his mouth, an explanation already rising in his throat. His mouth, however, was frozen like the rest of his body. The panic he had felt at his first realization turned into an overwhelming fear.

_(no)_

"The only thing you _didn't_ do is use me," Wally continued. "I guess I should thank you for that."

"You should leave soon," Muse said softly. Her eyes focused on the youngest within the group. "The rest can be said another time."

"One more thing," the young man-

_(his eyes what have they done? what have _we_ done?)_

-promised. His gaze fell back to his uncle, a mixture of mercy and cold fury hardening his face. "How long would you have lied to me? You led me to believe that you did everything in your power to save them. But you didn't do anything."

Silence reigned in the room. Bruce-

_(not Bruce lost him never had him)_

-had remained silent in the exchange, standing off towards the door. His cowl had been pulled down to reveal his face. "Knock him out now."

The young man nodded once. His steps towards Barry were definite. It was only then that the blond noticed the large bow that was tucked into his nephew's hand.

_(Red Arrow)_

Wally lifted the bow into the air and beyond Barry's sight. Their eyes locked together in a gaze, and the redhead shrugged. "You really should have expected this."

A sharp pain met the back of the hero's neck, and then there was nothing.

* * *

><p><strong>This was a fun chapter! (In my opinion, Wally's story is one of the saddest.)<strong>

**Here's hoping to quicker chapters! *crosses fingers***


	11. Succubus

**Hey everyone! Finally got this chapter edited to my liking. (Shout out to Dark Goddess of Shadows for beta reading a few parts for me!)**

**So, as mentioned earlier in this story: the Justice League got together in similar ways to that of the Justice League Animated story. White Martian invasion, J'onn's supposedly the only Green Martian left, and everything else.**

**I still do not own Young Justice. (It should be on my bucket list, though.)**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p><strong>October 2, 9:26 AM<br>****Washington DC**

A crack of light broke into the room. It was an irregularity; Muse's only visitor was Lampads, and the man was currently working towards their final plan. She refused to turn and greet the other, however. Knowing that he had come down provided her with enough amusement.

"Should I call you Doctor Fate or Nabu?" she asked. "It makes no difference to me."

"You shouldn't be alive," the being replied back. Muse could hear the voice of Zatara underneath the power. She wondered how much the human -

_(poor man)_

-understood of the situation.

"Yes, you did see to that. Death, however, was only a hindrance. The truth always rises up in some fashion or another." She closed her eyes, the memory of her own death playing out before her. "What allowed you to believe that you could get away with this?"

"It was for the greater good. The others understood it," Fate said.

"It may just be a matter of perspective then. For you, it is the greater good. For us, it's watching a scorned lover." She smiled. "The game is ending, Fate."

The sliver of light was suddenly gone. She wondered if Fate would have responded if the situation was different.

_(you'll understand soon)_

* * *

><p><strong>October 2, 9:59 PM<br>****location unknown, coordinates unknown****  
><strong>

The red fields appeared graceful before him, despite their barren appearance. The Martian knew better than to believe it to be a bad sign; the land was still recovering from the war with the White Martians and progress was slow. But still the land, along with the Green Martians, had survived. All he had to do was turn and look behind him for a testament of their strength.

The knowledge, however, did nothing to the unease that he felt every time he looked out.

J'onn J'onzz frowned. There was an unnamed force that drew him to the fields every morning. It was the same force that created the sense of lost and sadness within him when he looked at the landscape. He had searched through his mind several times for the source. The final result was the discovery of a mental block over some of his memories. His wife had assured him that the mental block was of his own creation, yet there was still some lingering curiosity-

_(danger)_

-that prompted him to look through his mind every few weeks.

"Does it hurt?"

The human voice was not as surprising to hear as it would have been decades ago; technology and inter-planet relationships had both improved since the beginning of the rebuilding. The two races intermingled for the benefit of both. J'onn had even contemplated taking up the offer to join the Justice League.

_(but already a member doesn't make sense)_

The Martian banished the thought as he turned away from the barren land. "I'm afraid that I don't know who you are, madam."

There was more that he wanted to say, but the words were suddenly trapped in his throat at the sight of her. It was a female human that stood before him. She was older than most of the humans that traveled to Mars. Her eyes were harsh, although there was something familiar in her anger. The shocking factor was her clothing; she was only wearing a black jumpsuit. There was no sign of any breathing equipment.

"You, out of all of them, should know what it is like to lose everything in a short amount of time. To have a family snatched from you because some group of people felt like being gods." The tension tightened in her voice as she spoke. The volume, however, never increased. "My husband had such a hard time understanding that _you_ had betrayed us as well."

Fragments-

_(memories dreams illusions?)_

-scattered in the Martian's mind, flashing through impossibly fast. The images would not stay with him. The pain, anger, and anguish that they left behind, however, seared themselves into his psyche.

Still, J'onn did not understand. "Husband?"

"I want to show you something first." The woman opened her arms and spread them as if she were a bird. A red glare outlined her figure, drawing the Martian's attention to the scene behind her.

_(no)_

Fire ravaged the buildings behind the human, flames licking everything up to the horizon. The red landscape that shaped the area seemed aggressive. Marks of damage mimicked burnt scars that the Martian had seen before. Screams, both physical and mental, ripped through J'onn's senses.

"I want to remind you of how it felt," the woman said. "Just imagine how your betrayal hurt so much more."

Fear and rage rose in the Martian. "I don't even know you!" The words felt hollow, even to himself. Something within him protested their use.

"You'll remember soon," she promised. "Do not worry about that."

A wave a pain overtook the Martian, bringing him to his knees. The dust beneath his hands crumbled away into nothing. Everything was losing their color and shape.

_(no no NO)_

Mars disappeared underneath his hands. Darkness took the rest away, before devouring his body as well.

* * *

><p><strong>October 2, 10:17 PM<br>****Washington DC****  
><strong>

Clark looked down at the Martian's unconscious form. It had been five years since J'onn was lost to his illusions. He had walked around the Watchtower's floors with no aim, muttering about Mars as he did.

No one was sure how to break the illusion; J'onn was their expert in the mental fields, and no one was willing to trust M'gann-

_(niece? lie)_

-to do the job. Instead the League had turned to research and numerous tests, only to fail in every attempt.

The situation had gotten worse when J'onn started to attack the Watchtower. Clark had to subdue the Martian several times with fire, only for J'onn to slip away and start again. Bruce had eventually subdued the other and teleported him to the Earth-bound headquarters. But the damage was done. There was no way to save the Watchtower without rebuilding the physical and computer structure.

_(and the casualty)_

Bruce had said that bringing the Watchtower back to its formal glory was impossible at the time. The man was right as usual; the Justice League was in a decline and resources were strained from the last time Brainiac attacked. The League, therefore, began the process of dismantling the satellite station. Most of the material was added to the remains of the headquarters in Washington DC. J'onn was placed into a medical coma to prevent any more damage.

Clark sighed. He looked at the Martian's face, wondering what his friend had seen. "We didn't lose the Watchtower because of you. I hope you know that."

_(can he hear me?)_

"From what Bruce said of that night, Muse-" He paused to correct himself. "_-Paula_ came. We don't understand how. Diana thinks that Paula wanted revenge.

"I still don't understand how Bruce could become a monster. Even after… everything, it doesn't make sense. The Bruce Wayne I knew wouldn't have killed anyone. Something was wrong. We're trying to save them. We're doing the right thing."

_(we always do the right thing we saved Bruce we'll save them all)_

"Batman would have wanted to be stopped. He made backup plans and told us he'd rather be killed by one of us instead of becoming a monster. We _failed_ them."

Clark shut his eyes. Details were swarming in his head. "It… it wasn't our fault for that night, either. Fate was right not to tell us everything until it was too late. And Bruce understands sacrificing for the greater good. The Bruce Wayne-" He paused, his mouth already correcting his statement. "The _Batman_ I knew would have allowed it if we were able to tell him beforehand. We didn't understand then; we were blindsided. But we did the right thing. We _had_ to let them die."

_(did we?)_

"We lost the Watchtower. We're losing support from the outside world. But this is not as bad as what could have happened. We did the right thing."

_(would Lois agree?)_

The question made him cringe. It had been five years since Clark had last seen Lois Lane. There were no clues to her disappearance. Even Bruce was unable to offer any new insight when Clark had asked for help. The only thing that the Dark Knight said was that it wasn't Lex Luthor's doing; the man had a strong alibi the day of Lois's disappearance and had vanished himself weeks later.

_(but there's nothing I can do Bruce proved that)_

The frown that was on his faced carved itself deeper. Even with Batman's presence on the Justice League, it seemed that they were no closer to solving most of their problems.

_(poor poor thing)_

Clark's head snapped up, eyes wide and whirling to find the source of the voice. But there was nothing else in the room; he, J'onn, and the still form of Oliver Queen were the only inhabitants.

_(can't be Muse Paula can't be she's locked up)_

The beeps from the heart monitor registered into the Kryptonian's conscious as the sound became irregular. Instead of a steady tempo there was a rapid acceleration followed by the struggle to create a new beat.

_(freedom help)_

J'onn rapidly blinked before his gaze rested on the ceiling. His eyes held something that Clark had not seen for years.

"J'onn!" The Kryptonian's voice could not contain his excitement as the Martian was finally waking. J'onn's heart was quickening, and he was responding to his environment rather than unseen illusions.

_(how possible? medical coma)_

The curiosity was instantly banished. Clark had grown as wary as the rest, and any sign of a miracle was welcomed. Explanations-

_(Bruce knew it was time knew made machines react to brain waves)_

-did away with what suspicion remained.

Red eyes blinked at the Kryptonian. There was a sense of lucidness in them, undermined by fear and confusion. The Green Martian flinched in his bed.

"Whoa, easy there!" Clark said soothingly. "Everything is okay."

_(everything is finally okay)_

* * *

><p><strong>October 3, 4:50 PM<br>****Washington DC****  
><strong>

J'onn glanced towards Batman's direction before returning his attention to Superman. His mind growled angrily at any attempts to look into their minds; he was having enough trouble sorting through everything that had happened. The memories of the illusion he was trapped in were fighting against reality. His wife and children were once again dead. Nothing remained of Mars except himself and the trapped White Martians.

_(M'gann)_

Seeing what remained of the Justice League during his time of incapacity only made the problem worse.

"Clark, I do not understand," he said softly. It was a struggle to look at the Kryptonian. "How could public opinion have fallen so low?"

Clark opened his mouth to speak, only to stop himself with a look of pain and confusion. J'onn frowned but waited for him to talk. When it was obvious that Clark would not make another attempt, Bruce spoke.

"The main threat that continues to hinder us is my family."

_(no pause where's the pain hides it even now?)_

"However, there seems to be a visual problem with potential witnesses. Anyone outside of the Justice League either sees a civilian or nothing at all. They're taking advantage of this and ruining our public image," Bruce said.

A memory flitted across the Martian's mind. "Alfred could not see you that night."

Clark cringed, his mind shooting out waves of panic. They were strong enough to get through to J'onn's mental shields. The Martian frowned, chasing away the emotions as he waited for Bruce to respond.

"Whatever force is affecting the perceptions of others seems to apply to me as well," the human-

_(still a human? after everything?)_

-said. "Fate has been trying to-"

"Doctor Fate?" The name was out of his mouth before he could stop himself. The Martian could feel himself turning pale. Memories broke out of their confident and ran through his mind, the screams and glares and betrayal-

_(stop not now please not now)_

Bruce glanced at him from under his cowl. J'onn was sure that the blue eyes were leveling into a glare. "Yes, him. He cannot find any trace of magic that could help him unravel this. As it is, I don't exist."

"I…" The words caught in the Martian's throat. He swallowed and tried again. "I am sorry to hear."

Superman's eyes darted around the room. He was not trembling, but the air that he gave off was disturbed. Bruce, however, seemed to take no notice of it. Instead, he continued, "We can worry about my state of being at another time. Right now you need to be briefed of the current situation."

"Right, of course." J'onn looked around at the room. There were many cracks in the structure, some long enough to go from floor to ceiling without a pause. The room was devoid of furniture, save for a lone table and a few chairs. If there were any forms of security protecting the building, they were not visible. "What happened to the Watchtower?"

The question received a half cough from Superman. Bruce was once again left to answer. "Originally we had planned to leave you in the Watchtower in case you were able to break the illusion yourself. However, we did not account for your numerous escapes. You reacted violently towards your surroundings. We would catch you, and things would begin again. The process was repeated a few times before we came to the decision of placing you in a medical coma."

_(no)_

J'onn was suddenly unsure if it was his powers that were making his face pale. "I… I created that much damage? Enough to leave the Tower?"

"It wasn't your fault," Clark said instantly. "You were reacting to what you saw as a probable threat."

"But-"

"It was _they're_ fault, not yours." The sky blue eyes turned darker with compassion and sympathy. Superman knew what it was like to destroy things without the intent to; many of his fights damaged property beyond repair.

J'onn's trust in himself, however, was already shattered. "No one was hurt, correct?"

The other two heroes said nothing for a moment. Their eyes met, Bruce's cold stare never wavering while Clark's turned to look at the ground. Something unspeakable had passed between the two. The Martian found himself wanting and dreading the information at the same time.

Once again, it fell onto Bruce to speak. "M'gann was detained in one of the cells in the Watchtower. We had temporarily placed her there as we were renovating the prison cells here."

_(no no NO)_

"I-" The rest of his words choked him, filled with a mixture of emotions that he could not find the beginning or ending of. The world moved about him, swaying and pulling him down. In utter grief, he collapsed.

"J'onn!" Clark had moved to catch him, but his Martian abilities had phased him through the man.

The concrete floor suddenly flashed into the red soil of Mars. Everything was coming at him.

"You didn't attack her directly," Batman said, sympathy in his voice.

_(you gave him sympathy you let his family die)_

"The security measures for her cell and the surrounding area used fire as a way to incapacitate her. You attacked the computer with the commands for the area. The system was no longer controlled and the prison block was lit up. No one could have gotten to her in time."

_(got what she deserved liar but my niece my family still)_

J'onn attempted to speak again. The ground beneath his hands was still trembling. "I- I didn't mean-"

Clark knelt down, looking into the Martian's eyes. "We know. It was an accident."

"But-"

_(a liar family she was there she cared she could have lied but did she?)_

J'onn turned away, shutting his eyes as he did so. Tears were starting to form.

_(what was she to me?)_

* * *

><p><strong>October 4, 1:00 AM<br>****Gotham City****  
><strong>

The music of the club pounded through her body, drowning out the voices of the patrons. The emotions from the humans, however, were still clear. The alcohol seemed to bite harder at her throat.

_(only a little longer)_

M'gann was amazed at how much the reality before her resembled what she saw on television, yet still managed to have its own plane of existence. All around her dreams, fiction, and reality bled together. The chaotic scene helped her deal with her own reality.

_(Uncle)_

She took another sip of her drink. The burning sensation filled her once again.

Her eyes were a shade of emerald, unmistakable even in the constantly changing lights. The color shone past her wavy brown hair. The provocative black dress was the other highlight of her appearance, a stark contrast to her pale skin. It made her notable and generic at the same time.

Her one downfall was her inability to not use the name "Megan." She had tried once, only to revert back when a man asked what he could call her that night.

_(but I'm still someone else)_

"Ready for some fun tonight?" The owner of the voice took the glass out of her hands. The Martian was careful not to glare at him as he tilted his head to down the rest of her drink. He was like the others; a businessman with a narcissistic tick, his mind trapped between his crimes and lust. She hadn't even bothered to remember his name.

"My apartment or yours?" she replied. There was a sudden lull of the music, and she could clearly hear the yells of the drunken patrons. Her own throat tingled with the reminder of alcohol.

"Whichever is closer." He flashed a smile. M'gann resisted the urge to kill him then and there.

She grabbed his hand and led him out of the building. His steps were drunken and slow, but his grip on her was tight. The lust in him grew steadily louder in her mind.

_(almost there so close)_

"I know a shortcut," she said, her hand tightening around his. The false excitement burned her as much as the alcohol had.

The human made no note of the underlying bitterness in her voice. He continued to smile drunkenly, his eyes never leaving her figure. The hand that enclosed hers was clammy, contrasting with the cold night.

"Seems dan- dan-" He stuttered a few more time. "-dangerous! Good thing you have me around!" The confidence that followed his words only served to irritate her more. He reached to place his free hand on her shoulder. She turned to deflect the gesture-

"Superman is a great man! He would never do any wrong!"

_(what?)_

The voice that shot through the night air was tinged with alcohol and pure belief. For a moment, the Martian could hear herself in the man's words. The unshakable belief that the Justice League could do no wrong, that her uncle-

_(liar uncaring)_

-could do no wrong, flooded through her. It had been years since she had heard of such conviction.

Her companion had stopped as well, although his face was contorted for different reasons. "Is that Jimmy Olsen _again?_ God, will that kid ever shut up?"

The young woman mouthed the name, the syllables caressing her tongue. The name was familiar though the memories themselves were hazy. Still, there was something about it that made her want him for herself. She hastily opened her mind to try and find his.

Her companion pulled her into a nearby alley. "Ignore him. Just- Come on, right here."

_(where where_

_there)_

She almost shrieked when Jimmy Olsen's thoughts poured into hers. The raw emotions, the unwavering belief, were staggering. There was suddenly an illogical desire to look up to the Justice League. A naïve little Martian, pretending to be an acceptable breed of Martian, was standing amongst the statues. Everyone was happy. They all _knew_ that they were in the right. No one else had the power to stand up to the monsters. The Justice League, Superman in particular, knew right from wrong, would always do the right thing-

_(NO)_

Her hands were suddenly covered in sticky blood. The Martian blinked, trying to recall what her body did while her mind was occupied. She was in an alley that was bathed in the building's shadows. It was a dense darkness, the kind she often favored for her victims. She was standing directly in front of the brick wall of what was once an office building. The man she was with was slumped against it, surrounded by pieces of the declining area. Blood was rapidly draining from his neck. His eyes were dimming. She looked down and noted his hands were covered in his own blood. The lingering warmth of his fingers, however, rested where her dress met her exposed leg.

"You shouldn't have done that," she muttered.

The man reached up to grab her hand, her dress, anything. She swatted it away. The blood altered the sound of skin meeting skin.

"Mistress doesn't like it when people touch me like that." The young woman offered the man a smile. She stared into his eyes as the life faded from them. Part of her wished that the man hadn't finished off her drink.

When he was finally dead, she leaned over and wiped her hands against his suit jacket. There was no need to worry over any DNA; even if Gotham Police Department consulted the Justice League database, they would be led to a literal dead end.

She listened for Jimmy Olsen's voice again. It was still there, both in the night air of the city and in the sea of minds. Every few moments seemed to inspire a new burst of life in his words. At times they were full of blind faith for the Justice League. At other times, the man was verbally assaulting those around him who couldn't believe as he believed.

_(how could he believe in that how did I)_

Her clothes morphed with little thought. The small dress lengthened against her thighs, the neckline changing to hide her cleavage. The brown color of her hair turned to her preferred shade of auburn red. Her green eyes, however, remained the same.

M'gann turned towards the open street, ready to track down-

"Wait."

The girl froze at the word. "Mistress!"

"Turn towards me, love."

She followed the command, greeting the sight of the other woman with a smile. Nymph was in her disguise; if M'gann did not know better she would have guessed the older woman to be a librarian. In Nymph's hands was a small, white towel.

"Here, clean your hands first," Nymph said, offering the towel.

"Yes Mistress." The Martian took the towel into her hands, the moisture cool as the night air. She began to remove the blood slowly.

Nymph smiled at the title. "Sweet little M'gann. No wonder all those bad men want my little Succubus." She kneeled, lifting the hemline of the dress slightly. The woman placed a small kiss on the spot where the man had touched the girl. "You're such a temptation."

"Thank you Mistress." The young woman held the wet towel out. Nymph smiled again, taking the crimson tainted cloth.

"The bar at the end of the street just kicked Jimmy out. You should get to know him. He's quite the character."

"Yes, Mistress."

"Just don't take too long." With that, Nymph stepped back into the shadows.

The young woman quickly turned back towards the street. In her rush to find the target, she ran directly into him.

"I'm so sorry, sir! I just-" The lie came out of her instantly, gliding off her tongue as if it had always been there. "I heard what you were saying and-"

The man before her smiled, his eyes sparkling under the street light. Hope and belief radiated off of him. "It's no problem, miss. It's rare to find someone who still believes in the Justice League." He stuck out his hand. "I'm Jimmy Olsen."

She accepted the hand with her own. The spot where Nymph had kissed her burned with passion. "I'm Megan."

* * *

><p><strong>October 5, 2:37 PM<br>****Washington DC****  
><strong>

The data streamed from one screen to another at its usual grinding pace. Most of the coding was familiar to J'onn, as he was the one to work alongside Bruce to create the programs. There were segments, however, that the Martian could not recognize.

He frowned, then typed commands to slow the display down. Some of the new pieces of encoding started to make sense with the extra time. Others were simply incomprehensible.

"Most of the upgrades are for the security." Bruce's sudden appearance made the Martian to flinch.

J'onn turned to look at the human.

_(is he human still?)_

"I see that you have not gotten rid of old habits, my friend." He nodded to Bruce, not allowing himself to look the other in the eyes. "These upgrades seem extensive. I do not recognize almost half of the new codes."

"Some of them were experimental at the time we put you into the medical coma." There were no regrets within the words; Bruce was never one to apologize for a tactical choice.

_(must we apologize for what we've done?)_

"I see. I must say that I am saddened to see that all of them are needed now." J'onn turned back towards the monitors. His eyes, however, could not focus on the binary strings. "Superman said that you have added things from the Watchtower's system." The burning guilt flared up as he spoke, but he ignored it.

"It was simple once we had the components."

"Are you saying-"

Bruce walked towards the monitors, stopping next to J'onn's chair. "Some of the remains of the Watchtower have been integrated into headquarters, yes. It was the fastest way to bring security up to a more appropriate level."

"That was a wise decision, my friend. I am glad to see the idea work so well."

The two remained in comfortable silence for a few minutes, both of them watching the coding go from one screen to the other. The Martian tried to imagine what the new strings of data meant. He constructed possible effects, his mind creating scenarios where they would be most useful.

_(keep Bruce sane hurt M'gann stop her no I already did)_

He cringed at the thought.

"Are you alright?" There was no sympathy in the other's voice. While that was nothing unusual, the missing component made the man's voice sound colder than usual.

_(don't I deserve that? keep his memories locked up keep truth away)_

"I was just thinking," J'onn said softly. His mind pulled up more memories of Bruce's family. He tried to block them out, but to no avail.

"J'onn-"

"Did M'gann suffer?" The question spilled suddenly from the Martian's lips. He blinked a few times, wondering where the question had arisen from when all of the memories were focused on Bruce. It didn't take long for him to realize that it was something that was eating away at him. No one had elaborated on the story after the initial conversation.

Bruce did not seem to react to the question. Calmly, he answered, "The fire was intense. The anticipation would have been the worse part."

"'Would have'?" J'onn repeated.

The human paused, as if weighing all of the possible answers in his head. After a moment he spoke. "Her body was found outside of the prison cell. It seems that the doors opened and she willingly went towards the fire."

_(no)_

"Wh-" The words were caught in his throat. He tried to speak, only to have them choke him again. Finally, he attempted once more and succeeded in getting his question out. "Why?"

"I don't know."

"She-"

"There were no signs of suicidal thoughts beforehand. However, we cannot completely rule that out. Most of the interactions that took place with her barely lasted a minute." Bruce turned away from the monitors and walked to the doorway. His cape dragged against the ground. "It wasn't your fault."

"I…"

_(I took away your memories I put away your family I hated her I attacked the tower I)_

"I'm not sure I can believe you, my friend."

There was no response; the Dark Knight had already slipped away.

* * *

><p><strong>October 6, 3:16 AM<br>****Washington DC****  
><strong>

"How is J'onn, love?" Muse asked softly. The darkness of the prison area appeared denser than usual. Whether it was an effect from their emotions or some other force, Bruce could not tell.

"Confused." The man paused, considering all the possible words he could use to convey the memories. "He did lose five years of his life to an illusion."

"It was a better place to be," she muttered. "Paradise, even."

"That makes it almost kind." The man could feel how the other's face contorted at his words, even in the darkness.

"Kind? It would have been kind to leave him trapped until he died. It would be kind to forgive him _for what he's done to us. Kindness-"_ She paused. Her voice, which had increased in volume at each word, echoed throughout the room. "I'm sorry, love."

Bruce said nothing. Instead, he lifted his gloved hand and placed it against the glass wall separating the two. After a moment, he could feel Muse do the same.

_(anger an effect of the curse?)_

"What you showed was some mercy. You could have made him relive the worse moments of his life over and over," Bruce said. He ignored the longing to hold his wife in his arms; it was not the proper time. He continued instead. "You gave him a better illusion for a reason, Paula."

"I didn't tell you, did I?" She was hesitant, but there was something underlining her words.

_(fear love hope)_

"J'onn didn't want to wake you. Clark convinced him otherwise."

"I'm not surprised." Through all of the time that the vigilante had known the Martian, Bruce could almost predict J'onn's empathy. Some of it stemmed from survivor's guilt; he knew what it was like to lose everything. His powers played a significant role as well. Bruce, however, had believed-

_(before the incident before everything)_

-that part of it was simply from the Martian's personality. "Have you finished undoing the spell?"

Muse hardened under the question. "That poor child was starting to go insane. If it were not for her magic…"

"That was probably Fate's plan. If Zatara had already given up, she would be dead." Something unsaid-

_(or worse sacrificed)_

-passed through the darkness. "I believe Zatara knows this as well."

"And the precious Justice League sought it fit to force a man to wear the Helm? Despicable," Muse said. "If only Harpy had known…"

"We will reverse the damage," Bruce promised.

_(but we can't be fixed can never be fixed)_

"More importantly," he continued, "we will reunite the two."

"Thank you, love." Their hands met with the illusion of touching through the glass. "How are our children?"

"Preparing. Dryad is counting down the minutes until we capture the rest." His lips turned upwards at the thought of his youngest son. Dryad had always stood out with his intellect. The plans and insights he made were often quick and accurate, with his mind already running to solve the next problem.

"He is always so eager. So much potential… Lucius was always saying that it would be Tim Drake Wayne as the next CEO."

He nodded. "They were all promising."

They fell into a comfortable silence that they had found in their married life. Bruce had known, logically, that all of his children were talented. There was a level of determination that they exhibited in everything that they cared to try. It was the sentimental attachment of a parent that gave life to his hopes.

_(but nothing left now)_

"Are you ready?" he asked.

Bruce could feel Muse's smile. It was the same one that she had given him as they sat together in bed; tired and kind, always forgiving the man for the long nights.

"We were supposed to remain dead six years ago. Why is it that I want to cling to this for just a little while longer?" She laughed. "Let's begin, love."

They pulled their hands back slightly, relieving pressure but never fully leaving the glass. For a second, Bruce could see his wife's eyes flash through the darkness. The moment was quickly gone. Replacing it was the sound of the room coming to life. Internal machinery buzzed, pulling the glass wall away. It was only a minute later that their fingers met.

Muse laughed softly. "I miss this, Bruce."

"So have I." They interlaced their fingers. Memories came to the front of his mind. But they were only illusions now, and Bruce was quick to shove them away. "Free Zatanna first. You can hide with the others afterwards."

"You do not have to worry about us. Go and help Succubus," she whispered. "It's time she talked with J'onn."

It was hours later when Bruce set the teleporters to Gotham. He was in a jogger's outfit, perfect for the city during the fall. Sirens were just beginning to saturate the air with warnings. The feel of Muse's lips against his own lingered as his computer virus wreaked havoc on the Justice League's systems.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see J'onn running after him. The Martian appeared confused, reacting to the adrenaline that was rushing through his system.

_(it's finally time)_

Bruce smiled. The Martian form was morphing into a human one, creating more panic for the other. He tried to fight the change. But nothing happened.

_(try to get me in my city)_

The man turned around and ran through the teleporter. He had no doubt that J'onn would follow.

* * *

><p><strong>October 6, 7:34 AM<br>****Gotham City****  
><strong>

M'gann-

_(am I allowed to be her?)_

-stared into the large cup of coffee that sat between her hands before turning to look through the large glass window. The reflection stared back, distorted by the light and angle. She smiled and it smiled back at her. The young woman giggled, turning away to drink some of her coffee.

The café was otherwise bare, an echoing reminder of what it had once been. Like everything else within the city's boundaries the café had suffered a loss of customers. There was sometimes vandalism to accompany the emptiness. The only thing that had saved the business was a single employee who had refused to leave.

"Enjoying your drink, ma'am?"

_(speaking of demons)_

"Perfect as always, Kaldur." She looked up to observe the Atlantean. He was wearing a crimson shirt and a pair of jeans. A white apron was draped over his attire, and gold cuffs rested on each wrist. The magic that radiated off of the jewelry was subtle, working to disguise the tell-tale Atlantean features. She ignored the scowl on his face. "If you stop calling me 'ma'am,' I'll stop calling you Kaldur."

"It is not that," the man said.

"Don't lie to me." M'gann turned back to her coffee. The man hadn't reacted to his Atlantean name in such a manner for a long time. "Was it something that _he_ said?"

He sighed, filling the entire café with the noise. "Something of the sorts, yes. I am not sure what to make of it."

"You'll figure it out soon." She lifted the mug to her lips. A wavering reflection in the liquid looked at her. She took a sip and enjoyed the bitterness that invaded her tongue. "What had Black Manta thought of your 'side project,' Kraken?"

M'gann felt the tension from the other's mind dissipated at the sound of his preferred name. "He had believed that I was making connections to criminal groups on the surface."

"You told him that and he believed you? I'm surprised." She mulled over the thought before hitting her forehead with the edge of her palm. "Hello Megan! You _are_ part of a criminal group on land!"

Kraken chuckled. "Siren had said something similar. Black Manta was quite proud of me."

_(because you're his son because he didn't know you were a failure to his cause)_

She raised her mug in a toast. "To good luck and misguided intentions!"

"Intentions?" The speedster's voice was full of curiosity, muffled by a pastry he had started to eat. His sudden, quiet appearance was a common sight for the café.

M'gann turned towards her drink. In the corner of her eyes she could see her reflection in the window. "How have you been, Wally?"

The redhead turned to look at her. Like M'gann, Wally preferred using his birth name rather than his codename. Kraken used both names equally, although he was fond of "Kraken." Golem's situation was very different; he had only received the name "Superboy" while under the League's care. His preference of name was obvious, yet his attachment to his Kryptonian name "Kon" was just as strong.

Wally-

_(Harpy)_

-swallowed his food before speaking. "Same old things, really. I aced a chem exam today."

_(nothing about your uncle?)_

The Martian turned to offer a smile. "That's great!"

Kraken gave a nod of approval. His eyes, however, shone with something less than praise. "I do not understand why you would not take up a second major."

"I was under the impression that you loved my company," the redhead shot back. "Anyways, I definitely have a job waiting for me when I graduate. No need to make myself more appealing than I already am." He gave them both a grin before turning back to the food behind the counter.

M'gann giggled while Kraken sighed in annoyance. No one dared to mention the possibility-

_(you could die like us)_

-of the future.

She turned to her reflection again. This time it was not her human façade that greeted her, but instead the image of a While Martian.

_(the truth)_

_(I know)_

It had happened several times before. Nymph had guessed it to be a byproduct of the force that resurrected the Martian. M'gann believed that there was something else involved with the fluke.

"You guys know where Golem is?" Wally asked. "Because it's almost time and all."

Kraken shook his head. "I suspect that he is with Dryad. It is, as you said, almost time."

"But isn't he paired with you two?" M'gann asked. "You should probably-"

"There's been a change in the plans." Nymph's voice rang out before the redhead herself appeared from the doorway to the kitchen. Behind the woman stood Kon in a suit ensemble the Martian didn't recognize.

"Geez! Give a guy a warning!" Wally said. In a second he had reappeared by Kraken's side, his hands holding a large muffin between them. Despite his annoyed tone, his emerald eyes appeared lively and amused. "And shouldn't you stop changing plans the day of the attack?!"

Nymph offered the trio a cryptic smile. "Rest assure, it is a rather small one in concerns of today. Golem will be the one accompanying Succubus. I will take his place in the attack."

Wally offered his exaggerated opinion in his usual loud manner. Kraken was also brought into an agitated state, although it was much subtler. Both of their emotions-

_(confusion anger)_

-pounded against M'gann's mind. Her focus, however, was on the telepathic communication with the clone.

_("The clothing isn't yours."_

"_Lampads found it. He said they belonged to Superman.")_

The Martian bit her lip. Memories of her most recent night in the red light district swelled inside of her. She brought the cup of coffee to her lips.

_("But he wasn't the one to suggest the new plan?"_

"_Pyroead did. He thinks that this could be the deciding factor for some people."_

"_I'm glad that I didn't kill Jimmy Olsen, then.")_

Kon's brows furrowed in confusion.

_("What _did_ you do with him?"_

"_We talked. Mistress was greatly amused with observing how he justified Superman. Are you surprised that I didn't kill him?"_

"_Yes. You rarely let your victims go."_

"_Jimmy is special. I'll show you what his mind looks like later.")_

"-can't believe Pyroead made up that plan," Wally concluded. He ran back to his spot behind the counter. "I was expecting it to be Sylph, honestly."

"Dryad also has a tendency to draw out paint," Kraken said. "Or Siren. Pyroead is more of a warrior than a strategist."

Nymph nodded, amusement flashing through her eyes. "Pyroead has his moments. They do not seem to affect his fighting style, and that's all that really matters. And to return to the main topic…" She looked towards one of the few clocks that decorated the café. "Father should be arriving in Gotham soon. We should all take positions."

The four original members of Young Justice shared a collective nod. M'gann couldn't help but wonder if this was the unity that the superheroes wished to see in the young team.

"We'll see you later!" Wally offered the Kyrptonian and the Martian-

_(aliens invaders monsters)_

-a smirk before scarfing down his last muffin. "Let's get cracking, Kraken!"

The Atlantean in question groaned at the wordplay. For a second, M'gann could see Siren's personality shine through her lover. His return to himself occurred just as quickly. He untied the back of his apron and pulled it off with little flourish. "Good fortune to both of you."

Kon gave a nod. "Good luck."

"You guys will be fine!" M'gann said. Her lips quirked upwards into a genuine smile. "I can make dinner tonight once we're done!"

"Awesome! Perfect thing to look forward to!"

The redhead woman offered her own smile. "A perfect thing for after the battle. Thank you M'gann. Good luck to you both."

M'gann nodded, her eyes glancing into the mug. She had only drunk half of the contents. What remained provided no reflection; unlike the window, it was always changing.

_(I still love you no matter form)_

_(I know)_

She suddenly felt the need to be outside amongst the dying city. Without another word, she ran out the door and towards what remained of the business section. She was careful not to run into anyone, although there were times where she almost did on purpose. In those brief moments she could imagine the life of one of the humans before her.

Kon's voice broke through her thoughts.

_("I can take air cover if you want me to."_

"_Yes, thank you. I-")_

M'gann frowned as her grasp on words slipped. Her eyes darted around, absorbing everything of the scenery. The city still had a loyal population. Varying ages and backgrounds came before her. The overlying similarity that encompassed the people glared back at the Martian.

_("M'gann?"_

"_I hate being different than them.")_

She glanced at a broken window, ruined by some unknown person in the past night. The memory of her reflection reappeared in her mind.

_("Stay strong, Succubus. It's not about genetics today."_

"_I know. You… you'll stay later? Even in the room?"_

"_Yes. It is what siblings do, is it not? We- Look, ahead.")_

M'gann looked up, her sight instantly training upon Lampads. The man was weaving through the slim crowd with practiced ease. She admired his ability to avoid his chaser without drawing attention to himself.

The man pursuing him was another matter entirely.

_(Uncle J'onn)_

* * *

><p><strong>October 6, 7:52 AM<br>****Gotham City****  
><strong>

There was no denying the confusion that refused to leave J'onn's mind. Gotham was as dark as it had ever been, mocking him with mental images that his memory clung to. It was almost six years since he had last stepped through the streets. It was more than enough time for the city to change.

_(what did Bruce say when he saw?)_

The Martian cringed as he avoided a businesswoman. His current situation came to the forefront of his mind, reminding him of what had happened mere moments ago. Batman had done something to headquarters' security. What exactly it was hard to ascertain; everything from the computers to the magical balance of the building seemed to be compromised.

J'onn had attempted to use his powers to capture the man. But something in his body wouldn't allow for such a thing to happen. Instead, as if by its own accord, his body had shifted into his human form. The Martian had tried to figure out what was happening, but at the same time Bruce was escaping. All J'onn could do was ignore the problem and chase after the man.

_(to erase his memories erase my guilt)_

He silenced the voice as he turned the corner.

"Bruce! Stop!"

The human continued to run, his head appearing in and out of crowds in a complex pattern.

_(why should he trust me?)_

J'onn continued to run. His body let out a protest, not used to chasing another in human form. The lack of action due to the medical coma only made the problem worse.

His eyes darted to follow Bruce, watching as the man headed towards an intersection full of people. J'onn cursed; there were too many variables involved to track the man through theory and guessing. If he lost track of Bruce here, there wouldn't be another chance to catch the man again.

Bruce darted past a broken window display and-

_(M'gann)_

J'onn's eyes snapped to the red head girl standing in front of the shattered window only a few yards away from him. Her appearance, right down to the clothing, matched what he remembered when he last saw her civilian disguise. He couldn't turn away, frozen to the sidewalk.

"M'gann!"

The Martian berated himself as he screamed out to her. He knew that she had made her disguise identical to that of a television character she admired while on Mars. While the show itself was relative lost to time, there were enough people who could remember it. The possibility that someone tried to dress up as Megan was more likely that M'gann retuning from the grave.

When she turned and looked him in the eyes, however, J'onn could not doubt his initial belief.

"M'gann-"

He became aware of the laughter floating around his mind. It was hers but there was something wrong-

_(corrupt dead)_

-in it. His human face paled.

"M'gann, what happened?"

There was no reply. Not even the laughter changed at his question. The girl continued to stare blankly at him. J'onn wondered if his mind had finally snapped.

His limbs, which had locked themselves into a rigid posture, jerked back to life. His mind continued to stutter for an answer. One of his legs pushed forward, stepping in her direction.

The Martian could not take his eyes off of his niece -

_(White Martian I allowed to love destroyer?)_

-as if she were only an illusion about to disappear. Her eyes lit up at his movement. A grin cracked through her lips.

The girl suddenly turned and sprinted down the adjacent street. After taking a second in an attempt to process what had happened, J'onn followed.

J'onn called her again. The younger Martian gave no response. Her red hair weaved through the crowd, only slightly more reckless than Bruce.

_(escaped I allowed him to escape)_

He didn't dwell on the thought for long. The thoughts relating to the once-vigilante were chased away. His mind sweep was careless; thoughts about anyone else besides the other Martian were pushed away. Nothing else mattered.

J'onn followed the girl's pattern, praying to the deities for a chance to talk to her.

* * *

><p><strong>4 Years Ago<br>****December 29, 6:00 PM  
><strong>**Watchtower****  
><strong>

_It was the blaring of the alarms that had awoken her. It was different than any of the other alarms she had ever heard while in the Watchtower; it was loud and voiceless. Nothing beyond the sense of urgency was passed on by the alarm._

(what happened?)

_She opened her eyes and blinked. Her cell was opened and there was no sign of the fire security measures. It was the flickering orange glow that resided beyond the doorway of the room that caught her attention. Something had gone terribly wrong._

_M'gann pushed herself up with her arms, careful not to stress her body too much. The Justice League had only fed her the minimum amount of food needed to ensure that she would live. Out of the fear that they had of her, most had kept their distance._

_The crackling of the fire began to fill the room. The temperature rose with the noise. The Martian turned her head away, looking back into her cell. It had been almost a full year since she was imprisoned by the people she had once thought of as mentors. She was almost tempted to call the place a home._

(do I even have a home?)

_She frowned. The places that she had once called "home" were all tainted with memories. Mars was filled with the remains of war and hatred. Mount Justice had been destroyed in the discovery that one of the hidden bodies-_

(they hid the bodies next to us they knew)

_-had been Pyroead. Then there was the Justice League, cutting her off from the rest of the world. Anything that she had said was used against her._

_M'gann looked towards the door. The alarm was still going. The fire, however, was starting to take up all of her senses._

(let me help you escape)

(no)

_A smile pulled at her lips. She never understood the term "suicidal" when she had been free. Such events had happened, both on Mars and on Earth. The concept, however, was something so far from her ideals that seeing others commit such an act was a tragedy. Now she knew better._

(it will hurt)

(I know)

_The pain was already starting. M'gann clenched her teeth, leaning against the wall for support. Hesitantly, she stepped towards the growing fire._

_The sound of her uncle's voice-_

(still my uncle after everything?)

_-came from beyond the flames and alarm. The Green Martian was singing, using his powers to mentally broadcast the words. It took M'gann a second to recognize the music as an old song that could be heard throughout Mars. Even the White Martians sung along._

_A giggle suddenly erupted from the girl. It grew into laughter which drew from her the liveliness that she believed she had lost. She had missed the ability to laugh._

_The smile remained on her face when the flame started to destroy the cells and equipment than stood between them. It continued to get closer, speeding up to an alarming rate._

(I'm free)

* * *

><p><strong>October 6, 8:39 AM<br>****Gotham City****  
><strong>

"M'gann!"

J'onn had lost track of the number of times he had called out to the other Martian. The rest of his focus lied in tracking the girl, weaving through the crowd in hopes of reaching her.

The girl ran through the city as if it were a playground. She never once looked back at him, yet it was as if she could anticipate his actions. Sometimes it was as if she could anticipate his movements before he himself knew what he was doing.

The red head turned into one of the numerous side streets. J'onn stumbled as he made the sharp turn, nearly knocking into a couple as he did. He could feel their eyes follow him into the street.

_(would using my powers leave the same impression?)_

He ignored the thought. There was no time to figure out what was wrong with him.

There was another turn made into an alleyway. By the time J'onn followed, the air was filled with the sounds of the creaking fire escape. His eyes turned to catch the figure slipping through an open window.

_(a place to talk place for answers)_

J'onn took a minute to climb the fire escape, his body aching from the chase. The metal tracked his movements with sharp sounds. He counted each one in an attempt to calm himself. Instead, his anticipation and anxiety increased.

The window that the girl had entered through had remained open. What little light that was able to escape into the alleyway could not penetrate the darkness in the room. J'onn called out, his voice hoarse from calling the girl's name throughout the chase. Nothing responded.

He ducked and slipped through the window. A decaying odor slipped into his sense of awareness, making his mind scream.

"M'gann, what happened? Where are you?"

Part of the Martian expected no response-

_("Uncle J'onn? I'm here. Hurry.")_

J'onn lunged forward into the darkness, his human appearance fading from the onslaught of emotions. He went through the wall with little thought and-

_(no)_

The room glowed with the soft light of numerous lamps. There were no signs of a window anywhere, and dense darkness took care to seal the doors. There were a few pieces of furniture: besides the lamps there was a couch and a coffee table. Everything was covered in dry blood.

"M'gann…" he muttered.

She responded, her voice originating from multiple points of the room. "I was so happy when you brought me to Earth. I didn't mean to lead you on, but I didn't want to make you suffer again.

"And then I learned how much of how humans hated White Martians. How-" She stuttered, but quickly recollected herself. "How much _you_ hated White Martians."

J'onn ignored his own bitter memories of Mars and the accompanying hatred. "M'gann, what have you done?"

"I wanted to be good. I pretended to be a Green Martian. I found a popular human character to base my disguise on. I _hated_ myself for being a White Martian!" She was beginning to sound hysterical. "But you would always hate me if you knew the truth. Nothing could change that."

"M'gann, I- I can't hate you," he protested. "You are so different and kind-"

"But you stereotype White Martians!"

"Yes. No one can escape that ability. Humans, Martians…" J'onn trailed off, unsure of what to say.

M'gann was also silent for a moment. However, she managed to find her words. "Pyroead calls it 'Martian racism.'"

_(no she's lost to them is one of them)_

"I-"

"It's unfair," she continued. "You lost your family to them. We lost Mars because everyone just wanted to fight."

"It was," he agreed. "But we should never stereotype because of one's origin."

_(I'm sorry)_

Silence filled the room. J'onn moved his gaze from one spot to another. Everywhere he found some remnants of murder, most of the traces manifesting in the form of dried blood. His insides churned. Still, he made no attempt to leave.

That was when the Justice League communicator came to life in his ear.

"_Any member of the League, report to base immediately,"_ Superman's voice stated, tinged with panic. _"There's a situation-"_

The sound of the Man of Steel being pummeled filled the airwaves. The moment let loose a barrage of combat noises; most of them marked the League's loss.

"_Yes, come members of the League,"_ Muse-

_(escaped no)_

-said in amusement. _"Defend your so called 'ideals of justice.' I'm simply waiting for you to air your dirty laundry."_

J'onn turned towards the wall he had gone through, his head calculating the fastest way to get back to headquarters. The appearance of M'gann, however, stopped him in his tracks.

"M'gann-"

"The League has always been in danger, especially when you signed the family's death warrant," she said calmly. Her eyes pierced through him, darkness underlying the green irises. "I'm not the only one you have to answer to. Lampads trusted you once."

"Would you kill me to stop me?" J'onn asked.

"No." M'gann gave a brief glance to the blood splatters. "You aren't like them."

Another question was forming in J'onn's mind when he was grabbed from behind. The grip was solid-

_(like steel)_

-and unmovable. Even if he had access to his natural abilities, there would be no escape.

"I meant it," M'gann said. "There's a lot you have to answer for."

_(M'gann)_

* * *

><p><strong>Kaldur working at a café would be awesome. He would make excellent coffee.<strong>


	12. Golem

**Hey everyone! It's been quite a while, hasn't it? This chapter and I had our disagreements, and as a result I may have taken a really REALLY long time writing the first draft. Sorry about that... ^^;**

**Well, we're gonna jump into the action! As always I do not own Young Justice. (It would be a nice gift, though...)**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p><strong>October 7, 10:12 PM<br>****Gotham City**

Kon sat against one of the cavern walls, listening to the screams of the imprisoned Justice League. He could distinguish the different voices if he wanted to; Green Arrow was full of rage, Aquaman was in pain, and the Flash's voice was just sorrowful. However he was mesmerized by the harmonized sound that came into the cave.

_(did I sound like that?)_

The Kryptonian closed his eyes. In the darkness, his mind built him an illusion of Cadmus. The labs had just enough light to reveal the experiments being conducted. There was a maze of passageways between the important creations, separating them from possible companionship. The floors were alive with technology and new experiments. The rock walls-

_(stop it don't think about them)_

There was a loud scream from Aquaman. Kon's eyes snapped open and, for a second, everything appeared red.

"Shit." He shut his eyes. "One, two, three…"

When he got to ten, he reopened his eyes. There was a scorch mark on the ground before him.

"Nice one, Kon. Aquaman startle you?" Wally said, suddenly appearing by the Kryptonian's side. "Maybe we should consider gagging him?"

Kon leaned forward and touched the burnt ground. The disfigured spot was rapidly cooling in the cavern air. The Kryptonian sighed; he hated when his powers got the best of him.

_(would never happen to Superman would it?)_

"Why is he screaming?" he asked, returning to his position against the wall.

"Dunno. He's been on and off since the music started." Wally paused. He casted a wary look towards Kon. "You _can_ hear the music, right?"

The clone nodded. The music had started some time ago and became a constant sound in the background of his hearing. Even with his senses Kon had to concentrate on listening to the song. It consisted of a female voice humming a simple melody. The tune itself was unremarkable; Kon could easily replicate the notes on dozens of instruments with Cadmus's teachings. What made the music special were the feelings it brought forth. For Kon, there was an instant feeling of peace and comfort in the melody.

"Right. Just checking." Wall gave a nervous laugh. "I'm just waiting for a sign, you know? Being the only one physically alive is…" He turned away, embarrassed. "Sorry."

"It's fine," the Kryptonian said. "Life's fragile. I get it."

_(can I really? I've been dead for so long)_

"You're living too. You know, in your own way." The speedster nodded towards the caverns. The voices of the Justice League came back into Kon's awareness. Aquaman was still screaming, although his voice was becoming hoarse. Flash' let out a loud sob. Wally winced and turned away. "You have happiness. All they have is betrayal."

Kon scoffed. "How does that make it different? They're still alive."

"It doesn't make a whole lot of sense, does it?" Wally said. "But seriously. You are living. You're experiencing conscious thought and feelings. You're aware of your environment and can interact with it. You know where you stand with people. You have someone to love. That's more than what a lot of people have." He flashed a grin, although it didn't reach his emerald eyes. "It's a lot more than I have, at any rate."

The Kryptonian considered the words. Quietly he said, "None of us deserved this."

"That's not how life works, buddy. Sometimes it just sucks." The speedster smiled, although Kon could still see wariness in Wally's eyes. "Wanna hear something funny? Sometimes, I want to say 'I'm glad that it's me.' Because that means that, hey, I'm suffering so someone else isn't right now."

"Does it work?"

"Nope."

The two sat in silence for a while. Kon wanted to say something comforting to the other, but couldn't find the words. His communication skills had never been strong.

Wally finally sighed, straightening up. "I'm gonna grab some burgers. Want some?"

"Sure. Get me-" Kon stopped. Superman was shouting, his voice booming over all of the other noises. The clone didn't need his inhuman senses to pick up the words. "Surprise me."

"Yeah, sure. I'm gonna ask the others." Wally barely finished his sentence before running into the deeper caverns.

Kon leaned against the cold stone and focused on Superman's words.

"-mad?! You've killed people! You're sick! This isn't you!"

_("let me out! please! let me go!")_

Kon closed his sky blue eyes and allowed the noise to wash over him.

* * *

><p><strong>October 7, 10:19 PM<br>****Gotham**

"Cute, Clark. I wouldn't say that I'm insane, however." Bruce-

_(can't be Bruce)_

-stood before the Kryptonian, glaring with arms crossed.

Clark glared back. "You're killing other people. The Batman I knew would have killed himself first."

"The Batman you knew hadn't lost his family because someone played God," the man replied. "I told you over and over, Clark. There will almost always be one single trigger that can change a man."

Clark opened his mouth, but quickly shut it before he spoke. He knew his reasoning for his choices was correct. Saying it aloud, however, gave the ideas a harsh tone. Instead, he said, "Things weren't supposed to be this way."

"I guess I have to give you some leeway for that," Bruce said. "It wasn't like we were supposed to come back from the dead, after all."

"I- No, that's not what I meant!"

"Then what do you mean? Did you think that we would be understanding? You didn't bother to ask for our opinion of the whole situation. Maybe we didn't matter to you."

"Oh course-" The rest of his words were cut off as he tried to move in his confinements. When he had regained consciousness earlier, the Kryptonian had found himself encased in a rigid standing body cast. Only from the neck up was free; the rest of his body was trapped in what seemed to be a mixture of metal and Kryptonite. The whole piece burned against his skin.

"Of course we mattered?" Bruce asked mockingly. The shadows by his feet twisted into jagged shapes. "That's hard to believe."

"You always mattered. But this was for the best," Clark said.

"The best for what? Was it for the best of the Justice League?" The man pretended to ponder the question before continuing. "I don't see how killing off the leader of the Justice League was helpful. Maybe it was for the best of my children. Queen did say that they would be better off dead."

The memory of the words jumped out in Clark's mind. "Oliver was angry!"

"But he meant it," Bruce said. "No one liked me. I understood that. Hell, I created half of the rumors about Batman! But justifying killing my family? Is that really your greatest accomplishment?"

"It was for the greater good," the Kryptonian protested. "You died to save the world. You've killed people because you're angry."

"I ask again Clark, what greater good came out of it? If anything, I am a byproduct of _your_ decision."

The words sank in with a ferocious bite. The accusation was not unfamiliar; even his own conscience recognized the situation as a result of the fateful night. What Bruce had failed to see, however, was the other possibility.

The Kryptonite prison burned him. The attention that Clark gave the pain faded in and out as he tried to explain. "Fate told us that we had no choice."

"And you accepted his words at face value?"

"He said the world was at stake and there was no time. Either we allowed him to continue the spell or everything would be destroyed."

_(it had to be that way)_

Bruce seemed to ponder over the words. He paced in front of the Kryptonian's prison, the footsteps drowning out some of the screams. The sound slowly magnified and played out a beat-

_(of what? what is that noise?)_

Clark was about to scream when Bruce finally stopped.

Bruce smirked. "You were talking about the 'Bruce you used to know'? Remember how he would subtly torture criminals? Hang them over the edge of buildings? Leave them to the dogs? I can assure you that I've gotten worse in the event of my own death.

"But the best thing was torturing you all" Bruce turned his head, and their eyes met. "I pretended to have no memories of your betrayal for _years_. All of you enjoyed a prolonged guilt trip every time you saw me. You all squirmed whenever I was in the room. You were all embarrassed. Ashamed. Yet you still though that you could get over the regret of playing God."

Clark still fought back. "It would have been better if you had no memories! You wouldn't have harmed anyone else-"

"You can never be certain about that."

"J'onn would have made sure of it. _I_ would have stepped in if I had to," Clark said. There was anger in his voice now. Bruce's inability to understand-

_(greater good always the greater good)_

-his reasoning was baffling. Still, the Kryptonian persisted. "I'm sorry, but it has to be that way. You would have done the same for us."

"That's weak, even for you," Bruce said. "Did you even think to consider alternative possibilities?"

"There was no time-"

"Is that your only excuse?" Bruce shook his head. "Let's try a different context. Maybe you can understand this example.

"A mission has just ended. Dr. Fate is using Nelson for the first time in years. You return home. You don't know that your teammates are listening to Dr. Fate. Fate says that there's an immediate danger to the planet. The only way for him to stop it is to cast one specific spell. But that spell sacrifices all of the hosts of the dark force in order to do away with the darkness within. It's not just about getting rid of you anymore. There's darkness in your parents-"

"No!"

Bruce tilted his head, the shadows enveloping his eyes. "But Fate didn't explain everything at first. No one knew until Oracle was begging for help. Well, this is a hypothetical case. I'm sure you won't mind the creative liberties. It's all the same in the end; Fate says the only way to save the world is to sacrifice the lives of all of the Kents. There's no other way."

The man turned away. Clark struggled to find the words. The voice in his head-

_(for the greater good save the world sacrifice_

_but what if?)_

-returned with greater force.

"You know what I would have done, Clark?" Bruce asked. Clark leveled a glare at the man, but Bruce was still turned away from him.

_(you would have done the same that's who you are Batman)_

"I would have told Fate to leave."

"Wh- what?"

"I wouldn't have sacrificed you. Even if the whole galaxy was in danger." Bruce paused, allowing the words to sink in.

"You- you can't say something like that!" Clark protested. "You have no idea what was going on! The pressure-"

Bruce snarled, "There are always other options. We saved the world multiple times against great odds. What makes that time so different?"

The man's words echoed throughout the cave. For a few seconds, Clark could catch the sound of a softly-playing melody.

"I can't say that I'm sorry for how things turned out, Clark. If I had known that you were all willing to harm my family, I would have killed you." The man offered a bitter smile.

"Bruce-"

"I'm Lampads. The Bruce Wayne you knew died, remember?"

_(I allowed him to die)_

The Kryptonian watched the man walk away.

_(was it always my fault?)_

Bruce paused mid-step. He turned around, a smirk on his lips. "I should show you something first. Golem, come here."

"Who-"

Superboy-

_(my clone)_

-suddenly flew into the cavern. Clark frowned at the sight of the clone's outfit. The rumbled suit looked familiar.

Bruce smirked. "Recognize it? Or do you need some help?" From a hidden pocket, the man pulled out a pair of large, black rimmed glasses. He handed them to Superboy, and the clone put them on.

_(no)_

"He even fits one of your spare costumes. I was curious to see how well Cadmus did creating your clone. They really got every last detail in." Bruce turned towards Superboy, his smile becoming warmer. "Project Kr was always more than an evil plot. Pyroead had a wonderful idea, though."

"No!"

_(what are you going to do going to hurt everyone you can't)_

Bruce shrugged. "We'll let you know when we're done. Goodbye, Clark."

Superboy gave Clark a nod, and began to fly towards the exit.

"No, you can't! Stop!" Clark struggled against the bonds. "Please!"

This time, no one answered him.

* * *

><p><strong>Six years ago<br>****January 1, 2:16 AM  
><strong>**Washington DC**

**(wake up the moon is waiting)**

_There had been a moment of absolute nothing. Project Kr had ceased sensing and thinking. It was as if he had fallen into deep sleep for a second, only to be jolted awake in the next._

(I'm broken? can't I go to the surface?)

_The thought of the surface made his chest tighten. The scientists had all insisted that he remain underground as he received his education. He was supposedly incomplete without it. Unfit. So Project Kr had allowed the Genomorphs to fill his head with facts and pictures. He learned astonishing amounts daily. But no matter what, he was constantly declared unready._

(was I ever going to be ready?)

_He drew in a breath and was rewarded with wheezing and coughing. Broken stone and rubble from the crumbling elevator shaft pressed against him. Every part of him ached, and he was even bleeding. His inhuman senses, however, were as sharp as always. He could hear commands being screeched over the loudspeaker. Sirens were going off throughout the building. Humans and Genomorphs were mobilizing. The building was alive as it had never been before._

_The clone frowned. There was something missing amongst the chaos._

(my heartbeat where's my heartbeat?)

_He focused on his surroundings. His recollection of the moments before he had passed out was rather hazy. He had broken out of his sleeping chamber and fought everything that got in his way. His fists were covered in blood since. The whole time, the voice in his head encouraged him forward._

**(keep going touch the moon the surface)**

_Project Kr pushed some of the rubble away. He had gotten lucky; the last counterattack had sent him into the elevator shaft. While he was farther down into the facility than earlier, he now had a cleared area to scale up to the surface._

**(go on)**

_He leapt up. Some part of him registered disappointment when he began to fall again. He reached out to one of the walls, his fingers ripping streaks into the material. He found leverage on a small ledge, and leapt again._

_A thought-_

(where's the elevator?)

_-ran through his head. He looked back down the shaft. Through the darkness Project Kr could see scraps of metal amongst the rubble that had hindered him earlier._

(is that blood is that mine?)

**(don't think about it)**

_Project Kr jumped again. His head crashed through the ceiling. Concrete and pipes scratched against him, but there was no pain; he only registered the lightest touch and sound of things breaking against him. The shouting had become a background noise._

_He landed on his back. Feeling the sterile floor was a new experience for him. He had never touched tiled flooring before._

**(close your eyes for me)**

_He closed his eyes. The sound of cracking filled his ears before the physical destruction reached the floor beneath him. The structure fell apart and the building around him collapsed. The alarms seemed to become frantic in the one second of realization, and the voices-_

**(ignore the voices they aren't important listen to me)**

_Something shoved at him from behind. His chest lurched forward as the thing entered through his back, slipping between his ribs. The thing felt like a cold human hand, pushing its way through him, aiming for his heart._

"_No. No. No," Project Kr muttered. His voice was hoarse and trapped under the newly formed debris. "No no no."_

(I was so close)

_The hand withdrew. There was no pain, no sensation of blood and guts seeping out of his body. The clone maneuvered one of his hands to his back. All he felt was his skin. Not a single trace of a wound._

_The debris above him was pushed aside by an unseen force. The sight of the moon in the night sky greeted the clone. His heart-_

(beating again I'm alive a malfunction earlier?)

_-began to beat faster._

_Any wariness or pain that he had felt earlier dissolved from his body. He got up slowly, his eyes sweeping the area for any hints of where to go._

(Justice League headquarters can anyone help me there? can Superman?)

_Project Kr climbed over the debris, and began his walk to Justice League headquarters._

* * *

><p><strong>October 9, 10:12 PM<br>****Metropolis**

Kon watched a cloud blot the moon out of the night sky. He considered flying over the cloud so he could continue his moon gazing. He quickly decided against it; the others were supposed to be arriving soon.

He looked around the garden again. Many of the plants had unseasonably bright flowers. He wondered how many of them were genetically modified.

_(like me a genetic monster experiment)_

"It is a rather beautiful night, it is not?" Kraken asked, walking towards him from the dirt path.

The clone grunted. "It doesn't matter."

The Atlantean gave him a knowing smile. "You have already started," he said, his head nodding to the hole next to Kon.

"I was bored."

"I can continue for you if-"

"I can finish." Kon reached for the shovel he had laid on the ground earlier. There were slight indents on the wooden handle, markers of moments when his inhuman strength suddenly appeared. He was surprised that he hadn't broken the tool yet.

"If you are certain," Kraken said. The Atlantean walked to the edge of the hole and sat down on the grass.

Kon looked at his friend. Kraken-

_(when did he stop being Kaldur?)_

-had spied on both Black Manta's forces and the Justice League. He curbed any attempts to overthrow Orin from the throne, while simultaneously sabotaging the League's missions. Both the League and Black Manta had believed in the Atlantean's loyalty. Kraken, in turn, acted well enough to continue manipulating the sides for over four years.

"How is Atlantis now?" Kon asked, flying back into the hole.

"In chaos. The queen has yet to wake and there are no clues to explain Garth's… betrayal. As Tula has gone missing, the court is afraid of another terrorist group. The prince is under constant guard."

"But they're letting you stay on the surface."

"They believe I am searching for the missing king."

The conversation faded away as Kon resumed his digging. The Kryptonian could feel the other's gaze on him, watching him more than the process. It was reassuring to know that the gaze was never accusing.

_(League's was accusing waiting for betrayal would they have ever trusted me?)_

Kon frowned. He had followed the League's rules and instructions to the best of his abilities, yet very few believed of his sincerity. Superman's opinion of the situation overrode of Kon's attempts to prove himself. Giving up on winning their trust had not made the rejection any easier. Joining Dryad had not been easy at first; he had become the monster the League thought he was.

_(would it have been different?)_

"You have stopped digging," Kraken said. "Is there something wrong?"

"Was thinking about something," Kon answered. "What… What do you think would have happened if the Justice League saved Batman?"

Silence fell between them as the Atlantean pondered over the question. Kon struck the shovel into the dirt and turned his attention towards the moon again.

"You didn't stop the party waiting for us, did you?" Wally said, suddenly appearing by Kraken's side. M'gann materialized next to the speedster a second later.

Kraken shook his head. "We are merely contemplating a future that did not happen."

"Why would you be doing _that?"_

"It sounds fun," M'gann said. "Hm… I think I could have stayed at high school longer. I could have even joined the cheerleading squad!"

"I would have shown up to all of your games, Sweet Cheeks." Wally threw a wink in her direction. The joy from the jest even reached his eyes. "I would obviously be the hot babe magnet for the League. Maybe even the dashing leader of Young Justice!"

Kon chuckled, pulling the shovel out of its spot. "That's it?"

"Well, maybe. This is a conversation with a lot of hypotheticals after all." The speedster smiled again. This time, the emotion failed to reach his emerald eyes. "I could have died doing something epic. Maybe save the world, heroically sacrificing myself?"

"Yeah right!" M'gann said. Giggling, she punched Wally in the shoulder. The Kryptonian recognized the action; Siren would do something similar to her brothers. He wondered how many other habits she had picked up without his notice.

"Like I said, hypothetical!" Wally said, holding his hands up.

"I imagine that I would have continued to pine for Tula," Kraken admitted. "Although I would not be surprised if I had developed feelings for Batgirl."

M'gann's smile lit up. "That would have been cute! You could have gone out on dates-"

"And drive the Batmobile!" Wally said.

Kraken shook his head, amused. "I doubt that her brothers would have allowed it, much less her father."

The redhead ignored the comment. "We could totally have had team bonding times in the Batmobile. That would have been _sweet_."

"Maybe I could have used their kitchen!" M'gann thought aloud. "It's so large and-"

Kon tuned the girl out, although a smile appeared on his lips. A few years ago Sylph had offered M'gann a tour of Wayne Manor through his memories. She ran to Kon afterwards in tears. The happy illusions reminded her of what the Justice League had destroyed.

Over time, the memories became a basis for her fantasies. She spent hours reconstructing Wayne Manor in her head. Most of the rooms were an exact mirror of what they had been before the incident. A select few had additional features to accommodate for the other members of the team; a large pool for Kraken, a track for Wally, an extended kitchen for her. It was a dream house.

M'gann often invited Kon into the mental landscape. The manor seemed to be littered with photos and other traces of life. It gave a glimpse of what the family had been like. The Kryptonian had spent hours in Tim Drake Wayne's room, learning who his lover was before he became Dryad. The teenager Kon discovered through the illusion was very similar, but so vastly different than the one he had fallen in love with.

Sometimes Kon wondered how the family could become so revenge driven. Then he would remember the League's betrayal. The rest would always make sense afterwards.

"-you would have infiltrated Black Manta's group easily."

Kon looked up, realizing that he had missed the movement of the conversation. He grabbed the shovel and continued digging.

"But what motivation would I have?" Kraken asked.

"Dude, the guy was trying to destroy Atlantis and killed a lot of innocent people," Wally said. "You wouldn't have to look too hard for a reason."

"The king and queen would have made it a mission," M'gann said. "And you would have been chosen to save them."

The Atlantean chuckled. "I wonder how I would manage to keep my sanity."

"Your good old sense of justice," Wally sarcastically replied.

"We would have believed in that justice," M'gann reminded him. In a hushed voice, she added, "The Justice League would have stood up for the justice we believed in and saved Batman."

The trio grew silent. Kon continued his digging. He couldn't understand what the others felt. They had grown up believing in what the Justice League stood for. Their heroes were family members who showered them with affection. There was no reason for doubt until Nymph came and hinted at the truth. Until that moment of doubt, his friends' heroes had always been the good guys.

_(my heroes are killers)_

"What about you, Kon?" M'gann asked. "Where do you think you would have ended up?"

The Kryptonian didn't lift his head as he spoke. "I don't know. Cadmus would have picked."

The group grew silent again. Kon could feel the eyes of the others on his back. He was nearing the end of his digging. He wondered how such a thing was possible to know.

_(can the dead sense the dead?)_

The speedster spoke up. "We might have found you in time."

The Kryptonian almost responded-

_(probably not)_

-but decided to hold his tongue. He struck the shovel's blade into the ground. "I'm grateful that I escaped at all. I can't really complain."

"You did get to see the moon," Wally said. "Some good did come out of it."

"Yeah," Kon said. He glanced at the ground. Traces of clothes could be seen mixed in the dirt. "What's done is done. We can't change anything."

"We can change our current path," Kraken pointed out. "There is still the possibility of atoning."

Wally snorted. "Says the man who prefers to be called by his villain name."

The Kryptonian crouched over the scraps of clothing. He brushed away some dirt with his hands.

"There's nothing that I want to atone for," M'gann declared. "I want this kind of justice. I want to avenge Mistress."

"Siren also deserves justice," Kraken said. "They will all be avenged, if nothing else."

The speedster hesitated before speaking. "I wanted the truth and I got it. I should have been satisfied. But… but the Justice League will do it again. We can't let it happen."

Kon sighed, using his powers to fly out of the hole. He landed next to the tarp that he had prepared before he began digging. Carefully he draped the plastic over his arms. "M'gann, can you lift her out of the ground?"

"Oh, right!" The dirt came to life, falling away from the clothes. Bones became visible.

The Kryptonian looked up. The other three were still before him. Kon could trace the years on each of them, knowing how murders and sins wrote on their skin. He could not, however, imagine them to be any different.

_(they could have been heroes)_

He wondered-

_(I could have been a hero)_

-if there was any way that he could have escaped his fate. Almost everyone had believed that he would turn out to be a monster. The few that had believed in him offered enough support for him to escape villainy.

M'gann's carefully placed Lois Lane's body on the tarp. Some joints broke apart when the Martian cut off her telekinesis. The corpse seemed felt light in his arms.

_(I'm a monster by choice)_

He looked back up towards his friends. "I'm bringing her to the caves first. Then I'll start preparing."

"You got it, Supes!" Wally said, laughing. Kraken sighed, and M'gann looked mortified at the use of the nickname.

Kon smiled back at the speedster. "It's Golem. But thanks."

_(for everything)_

* * *

><p><strong>Six years ago<br>****March 21, 3:25 PM  
><strong>**Gotham**

_Superboy stood by the large gate to Wayne Manor. The area was secluded, and seemed to have been abandoned for quite some time. The plant life behind the gate varied between dead and teeming with life. In a few spots, he could see patches of melting snow._

"_Hello, Project Kr."_

_The Kryptonian turned to the source of the voice, masking his surprised. The other person was only a teenager. He was smaller than Superboy, and had hints of muscle showing through his baggy clothing. The skin that was visible was scarred and pale. The teenager's black hair was long, and his bangs fell in front of his eyes._

(heartbeat where's his heartbeat?)

"_Who are you?" Superboy demanded. One hand was already balling into a fist. Despite Black Canary's teachings, his anger was the first thing to respond to the stranger._

"_You don't remember?" the teen asked. He turned towards the manor, and Superboy observed the other's shoulders slump. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised. It's been a few months, and I was only a voice in your head. Promising big things like the moon and all that."_

"_You…" It was instant recognition at the words. "You were the one telling me to break out of Cadmus."_

_The teenager shrugged. His eyes refused to leave the manor. "It was originally just 'destroy Cadmus.' I wasn't expecting that much from you at first."_

_It took the Kryptonian a moment to understand the implications. "You wanted me to fight and die? Like an animal?"_

"_You wouldn't have been the first clone without mental capacity." The stranger sensed Superboy's surprise, and laughed. "A lot of people would love their very own 'Man of Steel' at their beck and call. You're the first success they've had with a clone that had a conscience."_

"_I…" Superboy swallowed._

"_Superman's somehow oblivious to all of this. Sure, he may have heard about a plan or two during his quests. You are, however, the first time he has come face to face with the possibility." The teen turned his head slightly, smiling. "You have to admit, he could have managed it better."_

_Superboy's hand closed into a fist again. "Who are you?!"_

"_An admirer. You keep yourself strong against the opposition. I'm kind of jealous of that." The teenager turned his attention back to the house. "If I had your stubbornness… Well, who knows? I bet I could have changed the whole future."_

"_Listen-"_

"_Sorry, it's a bad habit. You can call me Dryad if you want." Dryad turned and faced Superboy. "I want to help you understand."_

_Superboy frowned. "You're not a member of the Justice League. Why should I trust you?"_

"_Because-" Dryad stepped forward, one hand reaching out for Superboy. The Kryptonian was startled by the movement and remained frozen. Dryad's hand went above Superboy's heart. "-I know what it's like to have your heart stopped."_

(my heartbeat where's my heartbeat?)

_Superboy pushed the other off of him, his mind frantic and-_

(how am I still alive?)

"_You died in that elevator shaft," Dryad said. "There was no preventing it."_

"_What the hell did you do to me?!"_

"_I begged a higher force to bring you back."_

"_Wh- what?"_

_Dryad's smile became less predatory. Superboy could even call it sympathetic. "I used what little remained of my power to help you break out. But once you died… Well, I asked for a favor. You deserved a chance."_

(a chance for what?)

"_I almost kicked myself when I saw you walk towards the Justice League," the teenager continued. "They have most of my family hidden away as prisoners, and the one fascinating thing that I helped released was going to them for help. I almost wanted you dead. But you went and showed me more of Superman's dark side."_

"_I… I'm sorry?"_

_The teen laughed. "It doesn't matter now. He already has a sentence over his head. I just feel bad for you." He reached out and his hand brushed the red shield on Superboy's shirt. "You really deserve a better chance."_

_Superboy stared at the other. He wanted to respond, but his new knowledge-_

(I'm dead I shouldn't be here)

_-was dumbfounding._

"_I should apologize for calling you out. I just wanted to see you once." Dryad smiled at the Kryptonian. "Let me just fix your heart… Here." He pressed his fingers against Superboy's chest. At once, Superboy's heart started to beat again._

"_I…" Superboy was lost for words. He closed his mouth._

"_You're welcome. Don't worry about repaying me or anything like that." Dryad nodded and turned to leave. "Goodbye, Project Kr." _

"_Wait!" Embarrassment flushed over Superboy. "Can… Can we talk more?"_

_Dryad's body tensed at the question. Superboy could see one of his hands looking for something by his belt. When the teen realized there was nothing there, he turned around. "Are you sure? I'm not the League's friend. Not anymore, at least."_

"_Yeah. I just…" Superboy looked down at the ground. "You saved my life."_

"_You're technically dead."_

"_I know. But I'm walking around and talking, aren't I? Doesn't that count for something?" Superboy hesitantly stepped forward. "It's not like you're a villain or anything."_

_Dryad laughed. The smile was almost endearing. "Well, I have a story to tell you." He held out his hand to the other. "Come on then."_

_Superboy took his hand._

* * *

><p><strong>October 10, 12:00 PM<br>****Metropolis**

Dryad had taught Kon Metropolis's history years ago. The former Robin's words were bitter, yet filled with wonder and awe. The clone learned of dazzling new economies, sunlight, and hope. Even before Superman's arrival, Metropolis was brilliant. It was such a stark contrast to Gotham.

Kon swung his fist, cracking the concrete structure of the building. Confusion and breakage surrounded him on all sides. It reminded him of his own escape from Cadmus labs. But things weren't in his favor that night. Behind the chaos, the scientists were ready to strike him down.

_(these people are defenseless)_

He punched the building again. It began to collapse, and he flew towards the sky.

The sun glared at him. He could see the chaos unobstructed below; humans darting around the street, cars frozen in place or trapped in varying accidents. Some cameras were even flashing.

_(does Superman always deal with things like this?)_

Kon shook his head. There was little point in dwelling on the possibilities.

He found another building and launched himself towards it. He flew straight through the new target, ignoring everything-

_(metal concrete glass blood paper lives)_

-that he came into contact with. He was vaguely aware of Superman's cape snagging on some debris, ripping the red cloth apart. The tattered remains stubbornly clung to him.

He looked down again. The sunlight seemed brilliant and angry, and the flashes below him were beginning to annoy him. He blinked and for a second, everything turned into a solid mass of red. It didn't take long for him to realize that his heat vision had activated by some subconscious push. Kon closed his eyes and focused on his own breathing.

_(stay calm Dryad said stay calm)_

He counted to ten before opening his eyes again. Seeing the damage that he had done in those few seconds, he smiled. There were large craters of melted pavement eating away parts of the street. The remains of cars and signs were marked by scorched shapes that vaguely resembled their original forms. The corpses, merging with the tar, were harder to identify.

The lucky survivors were running clear of the scene. Curiosity was replaced by fear. They screamed, but Kon paid them no mind.

_(now you can see Superman as a monster)_

Kon flew closer to the ground and went through the building directly to his right. He was barely through the other side when he turned around and flew through the building again. The upper floors were trembling when he was outside again. For a second it seemed to have regained its composure.

_(how can you still be standing?)_

Then the wall facing him collapsed, bringing the rest of the building with it.

The Kryptonian was ready to launch himself back into the sky. He wondered where he could drop the Daily Planet's iconic statue-

_(little girl is crying)_

It was only when he was halfway through the floor of the falling building that he realized what was happening. In his arms was a female child. Her brown hair was whipping around from the force of the wind he was creating. He turned, using his back to protect her as they emerged from the building. She continued to wail even as he flew away from the destruction.

_(why did I do that?)_

He searched the cityscape. The chaos was now a nuisance, and he had trouble blocking it out. The girl was clinging to the costume.

Kon looked down at the child. Her eyes were still squeezed shut. Words failed him; he was destroying a city but chose to save a life. Out of what few things he could say, none of them were comforting.

After a moment of consideration he flew to the garden exhibit. He landed gently, careful not to jostle the screaming girl.

"She's got a set of lungs on her," Dryad commented, walking out from behind a tree. "Must be tired." He approached them, holding out a navy blue flower. He brought the plant to the girl's face. Her cries suddenly became ragged breathing and she slumped into Kon's arms, asleep.

The clone looked down at her again. For a second, he imagined her dead in his arms. Something inside of him twisted.

"I… I don't understand." he muttered. "Why did I do that?"

"That's what I would like to know," said Dryad. "The first thing I would guess is that you inherited it."

The words-

_(no)_

-made Kon tighten his grip on the girl.

"Superman used to do a lot more for people before we died," the other continued. "We used to call him the 'Boy Scout of the Justice League.' He would save people from impossible perils, get cats out of trees… That was his thing back then."

In the background, Kon could hear panicked voices. The humans were worried of his next appearance. One woman was praying for someone to save them.

"As you already know, he started helping less and less and tried to become a 'big picture' kind of person. The small things stopped mattering," Dryad said. "It would have been better if he remained the 'Boy Scout.'"

"So I'm only doing this because Superman would have?" Kon asked bitterly.

_(even now I'm in his costume being him saving people like he would)_

"'Inherited' may have been the wrong word." Dryad stepped forward, his arms brushing against Kon's as he took the child. Like always, Dryad's hands were cold. "Maybe you being in the costume triggered something."

"What do you mean?"

"You're wearing Superman's costume. For a brief second, the world thought you were a hero," said Dryad. A smile appeared as he spoke. "Wasn't that something you always wanted?"

"I…" Kon considered the idea. "I'm not sure."

"You were hopeful when you escaped Cadmus. The surface world was the symbol. The Justice League was an aspiration. The League took you in and, through a combination of what the Genomorphs taught you and your sense of self, you wanted to be a hero.

"But things got in the way. You were inexperienced with your powers. Superman, and subsequently the majority of the Justice League, didn't trust you. Young Justice was falling apart before it even started. There was no chance for you to be a hero.

"But you have a chance now. It's an odd time, but…" Dryad turned his head towards the girl. "Well, we can't be monsters all of the time."

Kon smiled. "That makes sense. Thanks."

"It's only a guess."

"It still means a lot." The Kryptonian turned his attention back towards the city. "Guess I should get back to destroying this place."

_(because I'm not a hero)_

"Where should I bring the girl?" Dryad asked.

Kon considered the options. After a moment, he said, "Somewhere safe."

_(save her from us)_

Without another word, he flew back into the streets.

* * *

><p><strong>October 10, 4:12 PM<br>****Gotham**

"Well, at least it was only one girl," said Pyroead. He looked around at the other members of the family scattered around the cave. His gaze lingered on Bruce before returning to Dryad. "Imagine if he had saved more."

"Don't need to. There_ were_ more." Dryad sighed, running a hand through his hair. He was leaning heavily against one of the walls. Bruce was almost surprised that the boy did not collapse from exhaustion. "Golem rescued over a dozen kids before we left."

"Mixed signals, much?" Sylph murmured. He looked at Bruce, silently asking if such a deviation at that point in the plan was allowed. Sylph himself seemed torn between responses; he preferred being ethical, but changing the plan was very risky. Bruce could feel the others turning their attention to him as well.

Bruce didn't take long to respond. "It's an acceptable change."

_(and it's better on the conscience)_

Sylph relaxed at the words. He gave Pyroead a shaky smile, and received a confident grin in return. The others seemed visibly relieved as well.

Dryad, on the other hand, continued to frown.

Nymph also noticed her younger brother's mood. "Dryad?"

The teenager turned his head to stare at the ground, his frown growing deeper. "Kon didn't know what he was doing at first. I made up the theory on the spot but…"

The rest of the siblings looked at each other. They were all puzzled at the statement. Bruce was also waiting to see where the line of thought was leading. Muse reached for his hand and gave it a light squeeze. If she knew what Dryad was going to say, she gave no clues to what it was.

Siren finally shook her head. "So? Your theory doesn't sound like complete bullshit, if that's what you're worrying about."

"It's not impossible," Sylph added. "We've probably done the same without realizing it."

Dryad let out a chuckle. "That's just it. I… It's just… I guess I got nostalgic."

Bruce glanced at Muse. The woman offered him a grim smile in return.

"Seeing him in action brought up a lot of memories," Dryad continued. "The whole reason I got into this business is because I wanted to save people."

_(you were a Robin an excellent Robin)_

Muse's grip on Bruce's hand tightened. He squeezed back, and turning his attention to his children. Nymph was looking at Dryad with a gentle smile, nostalgia filling her own eyes. The other three were visibly discomforted by the words. Siren had turned away, her cheeks turning a dark red in the cavern's shadows. Sylph and Pyroead were looking at each other, a mixture of fear and anger on each of their faces.

"I wasn't expecting it to become a big gig," Nymph-

_(the first the first Batgirl Oracle)_

-finally said. "It was only a costume party, after all."

Pyroead-

_(Robin Red Hood)_

-laughed. "At least you weren't doing anything illegal. I stole the hubcaps off the Batmobile."

"You didn't even successfully steal them. Dad caught you in the middle of the act," Slyph-

_(first Robin Nightwing)_

-said. Some of his own anger melted away. "You thought that being Robin would be rebellious and cool. I just… Well, revenge is always a motivator."

"Not everyone had an inspiring story," Siren-

_(Batgirl no time for anything else)_

-said. "I just wanted to do what Dad was doing."

Muse-

_(my wife my love)_

-let out a small chuckle. "Does it really matter? The fact is that you all chose to stay in the end."

"But we all deviated from it," Dryad pointed out. "We're killing people, pushing the Justice League into ruin, destroying cities. We're the villains this time around."

Bruce grunted. He knew that particular line of though all too well. The loss of his memories and their gradual reveal to him had placed everything into a different perspective. Muse had pushed him towards his former mindset. While it had eased the doubts, Bruce was still left with the trains of thoughts.

"It's not so clear cut," Bruce said. "As with every single case that we worked, there is more than one side of the story. Some people were petty, some were insane. But they all had a reason. Our reason was the Justice League. We chose afterwards to act out the way we did. We can stop if we wanted to. We could choose to end this whole plan right now and release the prisoners.

"The problem, however, would remain; the Justice League has not learned from their mistake. They continue to try and justify their choices with the belief of the 'greater good.' If they are unwilling to own up to their own decision this time, what will stop them next time? Or the next after that?"

"Doesn't that make what we're doing for 'the greater good'?" Dryad asked. There was humor in his words, but the underlying hesitance was worrying.

"Revenge is our primary goal. Any 'greater good' that comes out of this is just a byproduct." Bruce didn't look at anyone as he spoke. Muse ran her thumb over the back of his hand. He wondered if the others heard the doubt in his voice as well.

_(but we can't be good we aren't heroes anymore)_

* * *

><p><strong>October 10, 5:29 PM<br>****Gotham City**

Kon was still mesmerized by the weight of the corpse. Even the smallest child that he had rescued felt heavier than the woman in his arms.

_(difference of life so important?)_

"Are you okay?" M'gann asked. She stood a few feet away from him, having insisted on watching him retrieve the body. She turned red in embarrassment when he turned towards her. "I mean, you seem fine. You did a really great job destroying Metropolis. It was really cool when-"

"I'm fine," he interrupted. He readjusted his hold on the tarp. The corpse was still breaking off into pieces, and he was trying to keep it together. It wouldn't do to return her in several piles.

"You did everything perfectly. I'm just worried." The Martian looked towards the maze of caverns. "I keep thinking what I would do if I was you. But it never works out right. I can't stand being in the same room with Uncle J'onn."

"I guess it would be bad if I actually cared for Superman," Kon mused. "Maybe I would feel bad for this woman."

"Oh! I'm not trying to imply- I mean-" The blush on her cheeks grew darker. "Hello, Megan. I'm being an idiot."

Kon frowned. "No, it's not you. Sorry." He looked down at the body in his arms. "Things would have been different if he cared, you know? I _would_ feel bad for him."

"He doesn't deserve it," M'gann said. "He doesn't deserve _you_."

"Right." Kon gave her a small smile. "I'm going to return this to him. I'll meet you guys for dinner?"

"Year, sure." M'gann flew up from her spot. "Good luck."

_(will I need it?)_

The girl disappeared down one of the tunnels. Kon stood in place for a moment, considering the Martian's words. She wasn't the only one who had issues staying in the same room as her former mentor; Wally had not visited the Flash since the man's capture, and Kraken spent at little time as possible with Aquaman. Kon himself kept his interactions with Superman to a minimum, although it was more out of disinterest than anything else.

_(lies)_

He looked down at the corpse again. He knew that Lois Lane was a reporter who loved Superman, and that the Kryptonian may have returned her feelings. Anything else was lost with her life; Kon didn't know how their relationship was, if they talked about Batman's death, or if Superman revealed the clone's existence.

_(does it matter anymore?)_

Kon rose a few inches above the ground, and slowly flew into the darkness of the caves. The screams from the other members of the Justice League were still a pervasive sound. This time, he could hear Red Arrow's voice in the mix.

He entered the smaller cavern that held Superman. The hero was still encased in his prison and devoid of almost all movement. Seeing the Man of Steel powerless sent a rush of adrenaline through Kon; he had finally proven himself to be greater than the original Kryptonian.

"I think I understand why you hated me so much," Kon said. Superman's eyes snapped up to look at him. Unaccountable rage filled his eyes when he saw the body, but there was no recognition.

"What have you done?!" Superman looked at the torn suit that Kon was wearing. There were small tears scattered over the material. The rest of the cape had ripped clean off. The shield on his chest, through some miracle, had remained intact. In some areas, the drying blood stood out against the blue. "You killed-"

"I've killed lots of people. Even leveled most of Metropolis today." Kon gave a halfhearted shrug, careful not to jostle the body in his arms. Superman went into shock. It was quickly replaced by a mask of anger and strength. The clone smirked as he continued. "I wanted to learn how to save people, but you would only notice me if I killed. Twisted, isn't it?"

"You think you can justify this? All for some attention?!"

"This stopped being just about attention a long time ago. You made it clear that my presence wasn't welcomed." Kon floated towards the other. "This is me doing what you want. This is what you were hoping for."

"I never wanted this," Superman said.

The younger Kryptonian lowered the corpse to the ground. "I wanted to prove you wrong at first. I listened and did whatever the Justice League told me to do. I was going to learn how to be a hero! Was I…" His voice faltered for a second. "Was I really that much of a lost cause to you?"

"Superboy-"

"That's not my name." Kon looked up, and their identical blue eyes met. "You made it clear that you didn't want me in your life. Kinda hard to take up a name from someone who hates your guts."

Superman turned away. Quietly, he said, "I never hated you."

"Really? Then what the fuck was with the cold shoulder? Because that definitely gave me the wrong impression!" the clone shouted.

"You weren't my responsibility." Superman looked down at the corpse. For a moment, Kon thought he saw a flash of recognition. It quickly disappeared.

"So it's okay that you let Batman's family to die, but I just wasn't worth the effort?" Kon frowned. "That actually really hurts."

Superman sighed, the frustration evident in his voice. He looked into Kon's eyes. "I didn't ask for you to be created-"

"That makes two of us."

"I am sorry for this," the hero said. Kon flinched at the words; he wasn't expecting the sincerity in the other's voice. Superman didn't seem to notice. "I'm sorry that I ignored you, and I'm sorry that you're tangled up in this mess. I want to fix this and save you from them."

"Them? You mean like Dryad?" Kon frowned. "Why didn't you just save them in the first place?"

Superman grew silent. His began looking at anything in the cave but the clone.

_(do you even know?)_

The hero's gaze eventually landed on the corpse on the ground. "Who did you kill?"

Kon smirked. "Her? Dryad says that you know her. Lois Lane, I believe?"

"No. You didn't-"

"You're right; I didn't. Dryad killed her years ago. Buried her alive in the Metropolis botanical garden," Kon said. He turned and began to walk away. "Dryad said she kept screaming your name."

"No. No. _Lois-"_

The clone tuned the other out. He left the cavern, allowing the screams of the League members to wash over him once again.

* * *

><p><strong>It's been a while since we've seen Lois. Hi Lois! *waves*<strong>

**(Also, Conner has all of the Kryptonian powers because he's dead. The dead tend to break the rules.)**


	13. Demons

***looks around* Hello?  
><strong>

**Yeah, I'm still around! So... I was abroad. And I took a hiatus while I was gone, because abroad. Yeah. And then I came back, and was readjusting and being busy and lazy.**

**And then back in September, I forced myself to start writing this chapter. And then I thought, "I need to finish this story. So let's write all the other chapters before I start posting and disappointing people with how long it takes for me to update!" And I actually did. I have the other two chapters all waiting to be edited and then posted!**

**I still do not own Young Justice. D:**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p><strong>October 11, 2:14 AM<br>****Gotham City**

Bruce leaned over the chest cavity. He reached in and grasped a bundle of wires. He could feel the energy running through them, pulsing like blood. In a fluid motion he yanked them out.

He looked over at the face that was attached to the body and frowned. Then, with some more delicacy, he selected three more wires to remove. It was with the tug of the last wire that Red Tornado's voice, once a steady babble in the cave, was suddenly silenced. Bruce's frown deepened; he was certain that the circuitry for the android's speech abilities was in head. If he had known that the wiring was actually in the chest, he would have been more careful. The things that Red Tornado was saying were amusing.

"Schadenfreude is a good look on you," Muse said. The woman sat on the other side of the android, observing her husband. "Although I can see why others would flee."

Bruce smiled at her. She had said something similar when she had discovered his secret identity. It was one of his fondest memories.

"It's almost time," he said.

"It is." She stood and walked to his right side. "I'm going to miss this."

"The torture?"

"The borrowed time." Muse reached out and caressed her hand over his cheek. "Time to say everything we didn't the first time around."

His hand reached up and took hers. It was cold; she had stopped maintaining the façade of being alive for some time. He turned her hand so he could properly kiss the back of it. "There was a lot that I wanted to say."

_(sorry for my failures sorry for failing you all)_

"It doesn't matter now, though. We've said it all." Muse reached into the android with her free hand. She reached for a large metal box, hidden beneath a mess of wires. "Would the League be able to put him back together again?"

"From this state? Yes." Bruce let go of her hand. "I removed his ability to move and talk, and took out what seems to be the source for his air manipulation powers. But it's relatively simple to replicate and replace." He paused for a second, watching as Muse pull the box free from the wires. "He's still conscious."

"Does it matter?" she asked. She turned to look at Red Tornado's face. "Remember the last time I took you apart? Then again, you weren't awake for most of it. Such a tender mercy."

Bruce chuckled. "He may not even survive this time."

"Killing a former teammate?" said Muse. "That's an appealing offer, Mr. Wayne. Are you willing to follow through?"

"Of course, Mrs. Wayne." He reached into the chest cavity and pulled another box out. "That's one of your larger hard drives, Tornado. I believed I already removed several others earlier. How many more do I have to take out before your processors are forced to rewrite over your identity?"

Red Tornado's eyes flashed once. Bruce wondered if that was indication that the hero had something to say, rather than just simple surprise.

"You could also theoretically shut yourself down," he said. "It would freeze your memory and possibly save you, assuming that we don't just physically crush all of the pieces afterwards. But even if we choose not to, who knows how long it would take for someone to find you and put you back together."

Red Tornado's eyes flashed once more.

Light was suddenly projected from the android's mouth. It was not the yellow glow that indicated that the android was talking. Instead it was a light blue, reminiscent of the Wayne Tech blue used to create interactive holograms. The technology was currently only available to the Justice League, even after his death.

_(but Red Tornado was part of the Justice League part of my side)_

Bruce growled. "You've seen too much Star Wars, Red-"

"_We have the ability to do a lot of harm."_

_(no)_

The image of the holographic Batman shimmered, but the audio was crystal clear.

"_We also don't know what can sway us. It could be mind control. It could be a mental break down. The point being is that we cannot guarantee that we will always remain good._

"_We have to keep each other in check. I need to know that you are all willing to stop me if I were to turn sides. Even if it requires deadly force, you must. I am willing to do the same-"_

The rest was cut off; Muse had placed her hand over the android's face, and the metallic make crumbled to dust. The light fixtures were covered. The android fell silent.

"You never said anything about revenge, Bruce," she noted.

"I thought I wouldn't need to," Bruce said. He traced his hand over the dust. It felt cold underneath his fingertips. "I had trusted them with my life."

The two stared down at the android.

_(is this how villains see us? so fragile so easy to break)_

"I never wanted to be a hero," he said. "I just wanted to clean up crime in Gotham."

"A vigilante is not a hero," Muse said. She pushed Red Tornado's head to the side. A small cloud of dust arose. "They only want justice."

"Yes."

_(but wouldn't a hero have been nice that night?)_

"Still, there are expected morals for them to follow. Break one and the rest can come tumbling afterwards."

Bruce snorted. "Quoting from nursery rhymes?"

"I have done worst."

_(we've done worst we all have)_

Muse looked at the chest cavity of the android. "Which bit is next?"

Bruce smiled.

* * *

><p><strong>October 11, 9:59 AM<br>Gotham City**

"I am afraid that I still do not understand," Kaldur said. He was pacing near the cage, keeping enough distance between him and the bars to remain out of Orin's grasp. "Is it different through the eyes of royalty perhaps?"

"Kaldur, can you not see what you are doing?" Orin protested. His voice was hoarse; the music had taken hours to stop, and it was only when there was silence that his mindless screaming ended.

The younger Atlantean seemed to ponder the words. For a brief second, Orin allowed himself-

_(see reason see yourself)_

-to hope.

Kaldur, however, shook his head. "It is not wise to advise such a thing when you yourself refuse to see the truth. Hypocrisy is not a good thing to fall under."

"It had to be done-"

"It did not. If it had been Black Manta asking for Batman's life, you would have fought against such a deal on principle of villainy. But you offer a different courtesy when a past hero asks for a sacrifice." The Atlantean shook his head. "Was it because it was Doctor Fate who had asked? Did you really take his word and handed over the lives of Batman and his family? You must excuse my disbelief on the subject."

"He said that there was no other choice." Orin's voice rose as he spoke, his throat crying in pain. "We were running out of time-"

"Pressure is not a good reason."

"Fate said that we already lost Bruce!"

Kaldur stopped walking. The cave was silent. It was ten seconds later that Orin allowed himself to let out the air he was choking on. He had expected the music to start up again, but it did not.

_(mercy?)_

The king chanced a look at his former student. The half-Atlantean had grown up well; he had gain muscle and a foreboding air to match. Orin had once believed that Kaldur had developed these characteristics to fool Black Manta. The villain would not have believed in anything else.

Now Orin knew better.

The silence dragged on. Kaldur's face looked contemplative. Orin took a deep breath and, despite the state of his throat, continued to talk. "We were told that Bruce was already taken by whatever force was in Gotham. It wasn't hard to believe. The man had been acting out of character-"

"How?"

"There was a darkness to him that wasn't there before."

Kaldur was now turning away from Orin. "Did he harm more people?"

Orin brought his hand to his head as he remembered. Had Bruce hurt more people on patrol? The human was rarely gentle with the villains in his realm. It was how the man instilled fear into his enemies. A dissuasion to commit crime again, he had said. But for the month before…

"Yes, he was." Orin shook his head. "We should have seen it then."

Kaldur turned away. He chuckled slightly.

_(wrong answer)_

"You have mastered the art of telling lies," Kaldur said. "You even believe them yourself."

"Kaldur?"

"I cannot say that I am completely surprised," the young man continued. "You all wanted to believe that you did the right thing. Lying to yourself must be easier than dealing with the truth."

"But it _is_ true!"

Kaldur laughed again. "I have played a spy for years. I know how to pick up the truth from the delusions."

"But you're willing to listen to theirs!" Orin said. "You have willingly gone along with their desire for revenge despite all of the destruction that they have caused!"

Silence fell between the two Atlanteans. Somewhere within the caverns, Barry Allen screamed.

_(he doesn't deserve that none of us do)_

Kaldur walked towards the cage, until he was only separated from the other by the bars. "Perhaps we are both delusional. I have, admittedly, considered this possibility. I am in love and looking for justice. I play executioner to those who sway from the rules. I am willing to betray even my own king, my mentor, for this cause.

"I am grateful for what you have done for me in the past. But I find that I am unable to forgive you for the harm you inflicted. It goes against everything that I had once believe in. And in order to atone for your betrayal, I have murdered. I find, however, that I am justified through my own logic. I am sorry, my king, that it had to come to this."

Orin reached out through the bars. He grasped Kaldur's arm, wondering when exactly the boy had become-

_(his own man)_

-a monster.

"Atlantis was once your home, Kaldur'ahm. Is whatever you find here worth betraying them?"

"Atlantis is full of fools. They fight amongst themselves and are willing to risk civil war over minor details. One of the only things that keeps them in check is their combined hatred of the surface world." Kaldur looked at the hand that was grasping him. "Is that why you found it acceptable to sacrifice Batman? Because he was a man from the surface?"

"That does not answer my question."

"I think that it does. Atlantis offers me nothing, while the surface world has given me so much. I have found the truth behind your motivations-"

"What about Garth and Tula? Do they not matter anymore?" Orin demanded. "You went undercover to save Tula. Doesn't she matter?"

Kaldur jerked his arm from Orin's grasp and quickly turned away. For a moment, Orin allowed himself to hope.

Kaldur sighed. "Wally has not told you, then?"

"Told me what?" Orin tried to reach for Kaldur again, but the young man had moved out of his reach.

"They are dead."

Orin's arm fell. "Wh- what?"

_(did you kill them?)_

"Garth was already lost to me," Kaldur said, turning back to face Orin. "I knew that from the beginning. He was noble that way; he firmly believed in your justice and stood by it, even if it was all just delusions. He clung onto it until the end.

"Tula had lost her sanity years ago. She had encouraged me to stay on my mission and not to break cover, and I... I had listened. By the time that I realized that her sense of self was lost, it was too late. Black Manta's men had done a wonderful job," the half-Atlantean-

_(he was more than that once)_

-said bitterly.

"Are you claiming that you killed her out of mercy?"

Kaldur dropped his gaze. "She wanted to give Garth the same scars that she carried. Maybe she was hoping that he would understand her. In any event, Garth had managed to get free and fought back. I do not know how, but the two had exchanged fatal wounds. There was nothing that I could do except bury the bodies myself.

"I had accepted Tula's insanity as a chance to change and save her from the system that Atlantis is trapped in. Had I known the result, I would not have allowed it to happen."

_(remorse sadness in his voice_

_hope)_

"There is still a chance to atone for and redeem their lives," Orin said. "Free me."

Kaldur offered a smile. "A futile attempt. As you have your own delusions, I have my own beliefs."

"Based off what remains of Batgirl," Orin said. "Can she actually love you?"

"As much as I am able to love her." Kaldur sent a look of disappointment and annoyance towards his former mentor. "If all you have left for me is comments about my choice in love, I believe we have no further business."

Orin frowned back. "Kaldur-"

_(there is so much to ask still)_

"I will take my leave." Kaldur bowed once, then turned towards the exit. "A pleasant chat, my king."

* * *

><p><strong>October 11, 10:30 AM<br>****Gotham City**

"That's the funny thing about Kraken," Wally said, looking up at the ceiling of the cave. "He is so incredibly in love with Siren that he changed everything about himself. Did you know that he is willing to slaughter an entire city for her?"

His head dropped, his emerald eyes fixed upon the two archers in their separate cages. "Funny how he can find a happy ending with a killer while I couldn't get even a decent one with you."

"You-" Red Arrow-

_(not Roy never was Roy)_

-growled, "-are a no good-"

"I wasn't the only one," the speedster continued. His eyes flickered to Oliver, before settling onto Red Arrow. "For the longest time, I thought that I was a dumbass for falling for you. But Jade would know better. Jade should have known better. She was an assassin, for fuck's sake!" The last sentence echoed throughout the caverns.

Wally took in a deep breath. Red Arrow wanted to accuse him of being dramatic, but the words were caught in his throat. He would have said it before-

_(would I have told him?)_

-but this version of Wally West was different.

"What I really don't understand is how you can live with yourself," Wally said. "You admitted your crimes aloud once, and even then it wasn't the whole truth! Yes, you used two of us for sex. But no, we were not asking to be used. No, Jade did not deserve you murdering her-"

"It wasn't murder-"

"In a drug-induced rage!" There were tears starting to come out of the emerald eyes. Wally turned his back towards them. "Has he told you yet, Green Arrow? Has he told you anything at all?"

Red Arrow paled. He looked at Oliver, noting how the other man began to appear sick at Wally's words. The blond was looking at the ground of his cell. He may have been a moment away from collapsing and throwing up. The younger archer turned his attention back onto Wally.

"Ollie, he's ly-"

"You know that I'm not lying!" Wally said. After a second of heated anger, the speedster's shoulders slumped. "Not about this, of all things. Not after I saw you kill a child's mother-"

"What?" Oliver did fall, resting his head against the bars. "Red Arrow-"

"I did not!"

"Actually, you did. You had a child with Jade. A little girl whose mother you killed-"

"That kid isn't mine!"

_(can't be Jade unfaithful right?)_

"Did you even bother to learn her name?!" Wally threw his hands into the air. "Her name is Lian. She's almost five and a half. And every time I go and visit, she asks what happened to her real mommy and daddy."

_(but it can't be it's not possible)_

"And every time, I have to lie to her. Do you know how much that hurts?"

Red Arrow turned away. He was trying to think of a scathing comment to say back, but words were failing him.

"The thing that really bothers me is your attitude. What, did you really think that being a hero put you above everything? That being a clone meant that anything that you've done here means nothing?"

_(I'm a clone am I supposed to leave an imprint?)_

"You may as well be Roy Harper at this point. You believed that you were him for years, and the real one never amounted to much anyways. He got a few months into being a vigilante and then boom, kept in a coma in a fucking tube. You went through the training. You filled in his shoes and became the person that you thought that you should be. You had all of his memories. In all essence, you are him."

Red Arrow-

_(I'm not Roy could never be Roy)_

-didn't look at Wally. He said, "You killed the real one."

"To prevent him from repeating your fuck ups. One of you was bad enough already."

_(he acts as if I'm the original)_

"And I save him some pain too. He was misplace for _years._ Unless you two were planning to get him a therapist, he was going to have a lot more issues than Red here."

Red Arrow picked up his head, watching Wally sending Oliver a look of pure rage. "And we don't even need to go over what you did. Were you really that jealous of Batman? Jealous enough to let him die?"

Oliver reacted with quick, spiteful words. "He was a danger to us all!"

"You're all a danger to each other, considering that you are supposedly the most powerful figures on this planet!" Wally snorted. "You hated him and wanted him dead. Just admit it."

"Okay, so the guy had a few quirks that I didn't like-"

"So you bullied him and, when that didn't work, you allowed for him to die. And not just him, but his whole family."

"I didn't want him to die!"

"Then why didn't you do anything?!"

Wally's question echoed in the caverns. Red Arrow turned to Oliver, hoping that his gaze could offer some kind of support. The effects, however, seemed negligible; the archer was trembling. It was impossible to tell if it was from frustration or self-loathing.

"Well, that answers my question," Wally said. "I'll deal with you later."

"Wait!"

Red Arrow clamped his mouth shut as soon as the word left. The speedster turned back, and for a second the redhead archer swore he saw something-

_(hope?)_

-in the emerald eyes.

"Yes?"

Red Arrow turned away. "It's nothing."

Wally turned back to the entrance. "Whatever, clone." In a burst of speed, he was gone.

Oliver looked over at him. "Roy- "

"I told you to stop calling me that."

The older archer ignored the angry tone. "How much of that was true?"

Red Arrow turned away. Neither archer said a word afterwards.

* * *

><p><strong>October 11, 10:43 AM<br>****Gotham City**

Barry screamed again. His voice clawed out of his throat. Still, the music would not leave.

_(stop it stop it stop it)_

"Unlce Barry-"

_(make it stop please make it stop)_

"-I just wanted to say-"

_(please I'm sorry I didn't mean to I)_

"-I'm sorry."

_(I'm sorry)_

* * *

><p><strong>October 11, 11:32 AM<br>****Gotham City**

"I…" J'onn paused, swallowing the bile that threaten to rise out of his throat. The cage prevented any of his natural abilities from working. It made him feel powerless, like a human. "I am not sure if I can believe that your apologies are heartfelt, M'gann."

"I know you don't want to believe me," M'gann rambled. "After all that I've done, I would understand if you hate me. But you have to understand, Uncle-"

"I am not your uncle."

_(never was)_

The girl faltered at the sentence. If it had happened before her betrayal, he would have comforted her. He would have been happy to be called "uncle." As is, the Green Martian could only watch as she looked away.

_(why does it still hurt to watch?)_

"I didn't mean to offend you." M'gann said. J'onn wondered if she was going to start crying.

He sighed. "I had wanted to find you to apologize for my hasty judgment of your character. I did not mean to react so volatile to the fact that you are a White Martian-"

_(but it makes me so sick)_

M'gann shuddered. "Is that what I am to you?"

It took J'onn a moment to realize that the girl could still hear his thoughts.

"M'gann-"

"No! Just- just stop!" She shook her head violently, her hands covering her ears. "Stop lying!"

"I'm sorry. I judged you too hastily."

She let out a broken laugh. "Is that all you can say? Sorry?"

"I don't know what else you are expecting me to say, M'gann."

"I- I don't know! But after everything-" She wiped away some of her tears with the back of her hand. "Do you know how much I hated myself?"

"M'gann?"

"I spent so long hating myself. I couldn't control anything about who I was, but I hated it all the same. Do you know how much that hurt?"

"It has not been easy for me, M'gann. My entire family has been wiped out by the war-"

"Do you think I wanted the war? I just wanted to go to Earth. To have a family and be that girl from the show and-" She sat down on the floor and curled up into a ball. "I never wanted that much."

"M'gann." J'onn sat on the floor next to the bars of his cell. "I never wanted you hurt. I had wanted to protect you for years."

"Only because you thought that I was a Green Martian," she spat back venomously.

There was no point in lying. "Yes, at first. I had no other family at the time. But I began to trust you. I was so happy to have you around. I was grateful.

"It was a shock for me to find out that you were a White Martian. I had believed that we had suffered together. But you have suffered differently than I have. I was not expecting it."

M'gann sniffled. "Is that supposed to justify you?"

"I… No. It shouldn't." he said. "I should have believed you. Before you murdered-"

"They deserved it."

_(and you are lost to me)_

J'onn hardened himself. He did not want to hear her reasoning, but he needed to. "How could those men deserve it?"

"How did Batman deserve it?" M'gann countered. "How did anyone in his family deserve it?"

"They…" J'onn turned away. "It was not that they deserved it. We needed to save the world-"

"By sacrificing them! You willingly thought that their lives weren't worth trying to protect!" She glared at him. "If Batman didn't deserve to live, why should those men? The human race should never have allowed them to live."

M'gann got up, and floated towards the entrance of the cavern. She brought a hand over her mouth, as if she was trying to stop J'onn from perceiving her pain.

_(am I still the cause?)_

"I am sorry," he said. He wished that he could hear her mind once again.

M'gann let out a sob, pulling her hand away as she spoke. "Sometimes I want to believe you, Uncle J'onn. You were family once."

_(she's not just a tearful girl she murdered people enjoyed it_

_she is still M'gann)_

The girl sped out of the room. And once again, Martian Manhunter was alone.

* * *

><p><strong>October 11, 1:32 PM<br>****Gotham City**

Clark only had anger left. He had burned through his tolerance and hope that Bruce would revert back into the vigilante that Clark remembered. There was no more trust or love in him, either. Even his hopes of escape had simmered away.

He couldn't hear the screams of Metropolis as the city fell to his clone; he was instead trapped and powerless in the depths of Gotham. He was also left with the knowledge that Lois had been killed and buried right under his nose. He had missed the truth before. In naïve hope that the woman was still alive, he had never bothered to check the gardens.

In the few moments of sleep that he managed to get while in his confinement, he dreamed about her last moments. She was crying and screaming and begging for mercy. And those monsters had still buried her alive.

_(they'll all pay)_

"You're beginning to look a lot like me."

Clark whipped his head up to stare at the latest guard. Superboy-

_(clone weapon monster)_

-had returned to wearing a black shirt and a pair of jeans. There was no Shield on his chest. There was no trace of Clark Kent's identity in the clone's appearance.

"I used to be angry all the time," Superboy continued. "After all, no one trusted me. I had few friends, and no one really understood. They didn't constantly break things when they were angry. They never thought that they were defective. They all knew who loved them."

"You-" Clark tried to surge forward, driven by animalistic instinct. The incasing he was placed in didn't budge.

"Everyone expected me to listen, but no one really trusted me. I was supposed to emulate the good of all humanity without ever experiencing it. How was I supposed to know what I was fighting for if no one showed me?" the clone said. The frown on his face was familiar. It took Clark a second to remember where he had seen it before; it had always arrived after the clone failed to use one of his Kryptonian powers. The clone, despite Cadmus's best tries, was imperfect.

_(better this way)_

"You really are predictable," Superboy said. The sentence snapped Clark out of his thoughts.

"If you were going to replace me-"

"Not in that way." The clone's frown deepened. "Lampads-"

"He's not Lampads."

"Fine. _Bruce_ said that it was easy to read your thoughts and emotions off of your face. I never really tried it; I thought that the times where you were clearly angry were just a fluke. That is one way that we are different; I hate it when people know what I'm thinking."

_(doesn't he sound like Bruce now?)_

Clark cringed at the thought. It was bad enough that there was someone who had all of his powers as an enemy. Combining it with Bruce's intelligence would surely spell doom for them all.

_(but aren't I happy? it means that the clone is not me)_

"Seriously? Do you try to prove the bad guys right all the time?" Superboy scoffed. "It's like you don't even try to defy expectations."

Superman could feel his anger rising again. The pain that his prison gave him had become a dull annoyance to the back of his mind. The inability to utilize his powers had become the bigger nuisance of his confinement.

"Don't give me that look," the clone said. "I _tried_ to fit in to your expectations. I did everything I possibly could. And you know what I got in the end? A bunch of people talking about me and wondering when I would finally snap and kill them all!"

"And that's exactly what you're doing!"

"Because that's what you wanted of me!"

The words shocked silence into the cavern. Clark wanted to think over the words, but was quickly distracted; Superboy's eyes had turned red. A beam of light shot out, forcing its way through the ground near Clark's feet. The air was suddenly filled with the smell molten rock.

"Shit!" Superboy hissed. He closed his eyes, bringing both hands to cover his face.

_(he still can't control it even now)_

"AGH!" The clone contorted, his voice filled with pain and anger as it spewed sounds.

"Superboy-"

If the clone had heard, he made no indication. He trashed around for a little longer. Then, with laborious breath, he began to count. "One… two…"

Some of Clark's anger died. He had rarely withheld his sympathy, even if it was a villain before him. Superboy was, however-

_(like me didn't I look like him when I was learning?)_

-different than the others.

The clone counted to ten before he withdrew his hands. Slowly, he opened his eye. When the heat vision failed to return, he relaxed.

"Is it always like this?" Superman asked. The question sprung from curiosity and sympathy.

"Why would you care?" Superboy said. He turned away, and began to walk out of the cave.

"I- I can help you!" Clark protested. "I can help you control your powers."

Superboy continued to walk away. "I begged for your help years ago, remember? You said that Black Canary could help."

"I-"

_(did I really?)_

"I was wrong."

The words made Superboy stop.

_(let me help let me fix things)_

"No," Superboy finally said. "You weren't wrong in the end. I just needed the right motivation."

"Superboy!"

"Only a monster could destroy Metropolis, right? Isn't that what you were thinking?" The clone peered over his shoulder. "I keep telling you, I became what you wanted me to become. Isn't that enough for you?"

"But I never wanted this!"

"You've only wanted to be right. You never thought about the consequences." Superboy glared at him. It was an odd experience; Clark could not remember his face ever contorted by such anger. "Not for me, not for Batman, not for anyone who mattered."

With that, the clone left.

* * *

><p><strong>October 11, 2:04 PM<br>****Washington DC**

The room was almost pitch black, save for a sliver of light shining through the Plexiglas window. It was one of the few constants remaining in her life. Even the food, erratic as the schedule had been, had dwindled down to nothing.

Zatanna, curled up in the far corner, shivered. The room was getting cold again.

"Mr…" The partial spell scraped through her throat. She had lost most of her ability to speak at this point. She could remember Doctor Fate-

_(Dad)_

-from long ago, before they had placed her in the room. He had used his powers to rob her of most of hers. For a while-

_(how long?)_

-she could only preform the simplest of spells. They provided small comforts, but by no means of an escape.

That was before she tried to kill herself. It had taken-

_(weeks? months?)_

-time before she had figured a way out. A bit of creativity and magic would have solved everything. If luck was on her side, her father would be able to escape Fate's grasp without worry of any repercussions. She was, after all, the ultimate hostage.

But Superman had caught her. He had called to Doctor Fate. Zatanna could remember the panic in his voice. In her dying stage, she thought she had heard genuine worry in his voice. It didn't matter; Doctor Fate had saved her life and, in the process, killed something inside of her. She started to lose her voice afterwards.

Once that rapid process began, her prison began to drive her insane.

_(is this what Dad feels?)_

The girl was beyond weak. She had received nothing for the past few days. If she was lucky, they would let her die this time.

"Zatanna!"

The girl closed her eyes. She hated the hallucinations. They preyed on her hope. She wouldn't have been surprised to learned that Fate was creating them on purpose.

There were footsteps rushing at her. She wanted to believe in them. Even if it would hurt again.

A hand slipped under her head, moving Zatanna gently. It was nice; she sometimes wondered if this was how her mother treated her.

The sound of a wall breaking filled the air.

_(don't let the illusion go I want this please)_

She braced herself for reality; for Superman's voice to come, for her head to drop on the concrete. For hopelessness to fill her again.

"We didn't know it was this bad."

"We _should _of."

_(Artemis?)_

"This is Tula all over again. I can't let it happen again. Not this time. Not with Zatanna."

_(not Artemis)_

"We have few options."

"I-" The voice roared. The wall was punched again.

"She can either live with the pain or die before she suffers further." The other voice lifted Zatanna's head up higher, cradling it against its body. "Tula's luck is not Zatanna's."

"I know."

_(Siren)_

"Just…" Siren faltered. Zatanna could imagine the blonde looking so unsure of herself. It had happened before when she was Batgirl.

No one said anything. Zatanna tried to open her eyes to watch the silent exchange, but they refused. Siren maneuvered the magician's head into her lap.

Tears began to hit her face. "I'm so sorry," Siren whispered.

_(still Artemis)_

* * *

><p><strong>October 11, 2:05 PM<br>****Gotham City**

If Nabu were a human, he would have felt the need to throw up. There was something disturbing about the situation that bothered him. Zatara had certainly shown signs of becoming physically sick when certain thoughts reached him. It was almost a curse to be trapped in a vessel of that plane.

_(this plane is a cursed plane)_

Still, it was the only way for him to have any sentience. It was the burden of his punishment, but one that he had accepted with grace. He understood the need to maintain Order. It was his own foolishness that had allowed one of the most dangerous to escape into this plane. As much as he disliked the physical boundaries that were attached to humans, he could appreciate humanity as a whole. They were constantly looking for order in chaos. They could be one day precursors to a new version of Lords of Order.

He opened his eyes, cursing the darkness once again. The area was drenched with magic. Even if the bindings did not dampen his own powers, he would not have been able to "see" the shapes of the area.

The bindings themselves were impressive. There were four metal cylinders, each incasing his limb and attached to a larger skeleton that came up behind him. Rather than removing his power completely, the metal absorbed almost all of his attempts of exertion. What little magic that managed to escape could only illuminate a spark for a second before fading out.

Relying on Zatara's physical senses was futile; the human was aging and had used his magic to supplement what was failing. Nabu had seen no reason to change the habits himself. Magic was their greatest strength, and far easier to use than to build himself like the others.

_(magic is still greater than strength we will prevail)_

"Hello, Nabu."

The woman's voice-

_(Onyx)_

-paralyzed the Lord of Order. It had been a long time-

_(century on this plane)_

-since he had heard her.

"You should be dead," he said as his wits returned.

"And you were the one to try to kill me twice." He could hear her turning in the darkness.

If he were a proper human, Nabu would have frowned. "The curse should have taken away your ability to be corporal."

"A fool and a students as always." She sounded both amused and disappointed. "Certainly your studies have not slipped too much in my absence?"

"Fate provides us with different gifts."

The sensation of a hand, not fully in existence but still there, passed over the Helm without touching it. "But it is our choices-"

The hand then touched the Helm, and with it a shot of pain ran through Zatara's body. The host screamed, disrupting Nabu's thoughts. Some of the sensation passed onto Nabu. The Lord of Order hissed.

The other was not unaffected; she withdrew her senses and hissed her own pain.

It took a minute for Zatara to quiet. Nabu had long learned to ignore his host's pain, but there was something definitively different about this instance. He did not want to admit his knowledge of it. Guilt-

_(but I was never guilty I will fix this)_

-pushed him to sooth the magician.

It was after silence reigned both internally and externally that Onyx spoke. "I should have realized. This is a rather fitting fate for you, Nabu."

"They were mistaken-"

"You believed in that aging system too much. And now look where we both are: the plane of mortals, where we can no longer interfere and help our brethren!"

"You deserve your punishment," he replied coolly.

Onyx laughed. "Your evidence lacks life."

"A Lady of Order turning to Chaos is evidence enough."

"For a corrupt court, yes. But for the balancing of our worlds..." Nabu could hear the tired sigh in her words. It was a different one from the one she gave him when she trained him. Those sighs had hope and belief. "Your sense of order was always the strongest of your peers."

"Order shall bring a wondrous fate-"

"But they sent you here," Onyx interrupted. "I had heard of the world in this plane called Krypton. I am beginning to wonder if it was not _your_ influence..." After a pause, she said, "Your arrival was years before the last Kryptonian arrived. But I suspect that it would take some amount of time for the vessel to travel."

Nabu stayed silent.

"I do not like where this train of thought is taking me." She paused. "You doomed a whole race, Nabu. Does the guilt not eat you away?"

"It was not Order that killed them. They had brought Chaos upon themselves."

"But you would have prevented that, being the planet's guardian." There was a smugness to her voice, as if she was proud of his failings. "You pushed them towards Order, and in the process trapped them to their fates."

"Allowing chaos to reign would have ended them sooner."

"Or it may have saved them."

Nabu scoffed. "Is that your justification?"

"Introducing Chaos allowed them to find a way to save their world. And you cannot ignore what some Chaos has done for these humans. Was the man who calls himself the Flash created out of chaos?"

"One great hero does not provide enough reason to allow Chaos to reign free."

"I only wanted a balance."

"Even a drop of Chaos is too much!"

"And Krypton drowned in order. Where were you when they were taking their dying breath?" The woman paused, and recomposed herself. "Maybe it is fate that lead us to this path. You convinced those heroes that this was the absolute path to take, and have them damned the people that they once viewed as friends. And now we are here, on the verge of destruction."

"You had corrupted them. I had no choice."

"Becoming a part of this city was not corruption. There is blood and darkness, but it is not gone from redemption. I gave a boy part of my soul to protect him. I was not the one to send him on his journey in the first place." Onyx sighed. "What corrupted them was death and vengeance."

"But your soul-"

"My soul fragments took a part in it all, yes. I was not unaffected by your decaying curse." There was a regretful smile on her face. "We have managed to delay its progress. But I think the end shall be soon."

"I will end you myself."

"You were always one of the more clever students," Onyx said with a laugh. "I will miss you, despite all that you have done."

"I will end you."

He could hear her smile at him. "I am counting on it, Nabu."

* * *

><p><strong>October 11, 2:20 PM<br>****Washington DC**

_(one last thing)_

Bruce had left Siren and Muse to retrieve Zatanna; he had never been good at comforting others and he didn't want to scare the girl. He was grateful for the moment alone. They were all almost at their end. A minute or two away was needed. His last, probably.

Around him, there were people bustling towards their daily lives. The city was alive, reminding Bruce of what Metropolis once was. There were buildings that pretended to be friendly, skillfully managing to keep the truth hidden. The places that were truly innocent kept up the feeling of happiness in the city. No one was heading towards the Justice League Headquarters; the reputation that the heroes had accumulated scared most people away.

Bruce was standing at a street corner. It was the middle of the day, so the intersection was not very busy. There were a few people around. Most of them appeared to be tourists, enjoying their view. At the opposite corner from him, there was a family. The father was holding a map, and the rest of them were laughing at his seemingly inability to direct them. Despite their misfortune, they were all happy.

He looked down at the letter he was holding. He had asked Cassandra for her address before she had left. It was almost like an unsaid promise; he would write one last thing for her.

_(but it's not just about her)_

He had thought out his words carefully. They were full of emotion, but there was some of the calculated coolness of Batman within the instructions. He had been careful to be thorough; he was scared of not leaving enough help. It was a painful thing for him to go through.

_(but no choice I have to do it)_

There was a mailbox a few feet away. Bruce took a deep breath, strode over, and opened the panel in one fluid motion. He dropped the letter in the mail box. He had done it. As much as it pained him.

_(I can't save them all but I can save him_

_just one last thing)_

He watched the family, wondering if he should go over and point them to whatever they were looking for. But he shook his head, and walked in the other direction.

* * *

><p><strong>A hundred years ago<br>Time Unknown  
>Coordinates Unknown<strong>

_Onyx sat quietly in the middle of the magic circle. The punishment-_

(banishment)

_-was still floating through her mind, dragging questions throughout her head. She knew the history of the punishment well enough; there was enough humanity and redemption built into it that she herself had advocated it on behalf of the condemned. It was a rather ridiculous hope, but it was her guiding principle nonetheless._

_She could feel when the others entered the room. Despite the bounds, she could interpret power without relying on sight. Most in her position would have been robbed of such a power. She knew better than to mention it aloud._

_The others began to talk, but she ignored it all. There was no pleasure to be had to listen to her condemnation again._

_It was the chanting that woke her out of her meditations._

(Nabu my student)

_Nabu's voice was the strongest of them all. She wondered if it was just something that she was focusing on or if-_

(was is always this hatred?)

_-Nabu really believed in her punishment._

_The pain of the ceremony was expected. The method was crude; literally stripping her soul for any form in their realm and shoving it to the mortals' one, while making sure that they was no way for her to return. It was, in effect, a way to brand her spirit. But she had already decided that returning back could not happen._

(not while they are all like this)

_Her consciousness faded. In. Out. There was noises, pain, and darkness in wherever she had managed to land. Her soul was reaching for something, anything, to anchor on to. It was a primal need to survive that took over what few senses she was aware of in that state. It was painful._

_There was metal. She quickly grabbed onto it. As her awareness came back to her, she could feel warm liquid flowing over her new vessel. It took a moment to realize what it was._

(blood)

_She tried to slip out of the vessel. She grabbed onto the liquid, willing the rest of her to flow out. Only part of her did, falling into the cracks of the pavement below. Suddenly, her senses were bombarded with more noise. More pain._

_It took days for her to realize what she had done. In a state of almost-delirium, she had bounded part of her soul to the ground-_

(this city Gotham)

_-and another large part to the dagger. A place that was brimming with Chaos, something that her brethren feared-_

(they banished me because they don't understand)

_-and an instrument of destruction._

(but I can't cry not now)

_Her soul was also fractured. The pieces were all within the city bounds, although they were, in fact, pieces. It was impossible to set them together again._

_The largest section kept with the city, and the second largest was in the knife. There was nowhere else to put the other pieces. At least, not for many years._

(for your protection my child

Bruce Wayne)

* * *

><p><strong>Damn Doctor Fate.<strong>


	14. Chaos

**See, I was telling the truth of having all the chapters typed out and just in need of editing. And this is was better than waiting a month at the very least, right?**

**There is a lot of using secondary new names, so here's a cheat sheet in case you forgot them all:  
>Lampads - Bruce<br>Muse - Paula  
>Sylph - Dick<br>Pyroead - Jason  
>Siren - Artemis<br>Dryad - Tim  
>Golem - Superboy<br>****Kraken - Kaldur  
>Succubus - M'gann<br>Harpy - Wally**

**No, I don't really understand myself how I managed to keep track of these names for the past few years.**

**Still don't own Young Justice. Or any of DC, really.  
><strong>

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p><strong>October 11, 9:26 PM<br>Gotham**

Onyx was floating in the air between all of her children. She did not have the energy to materialize before them; keeping any form was draining more and more from her. She had already said the things that were long overdue to Nabu. It had not fixed anything, but it was nice to be able to say the words.

_(he never gave me the chance before)_

Her children were on a rocky shelf that overlooked the large cavern. They were a mixed state of calm and agitation. She wondered if she would have felt the same if she was a mortal, on borrowed time or not.

"They're escaping," Harpy noted, looking over the cavern opening below his perch. "Well, kinda? I mean, they all are going towards one cave- Oh."

"Fate's bringing them to Superman's cell, isn't he?" Sylph sighed. There was a smile on his lips; not the easy ones of his youth but rather one with bitter happiness. "This will be interesting."

"He's going to have to reveal the whole truth now," Dryad said. "There's no other way to convince them at this point." He raised a hand, and vines grew from the floor in sync with the motion. He flicked his wrist again, and this time a few flowers appeared. They were roses, Onyx realized, with the coloring of blood. "It's too bad that he will never learn. He seems rather dense."

Lampads-

_(my first child the first one)_

-frowned. "He didn't gain his reputation based on sheer power alone."

"I'm not saying that he's an idiot. Just… set in his ways. Trapped." The former Robin tilted his head. His eyes were focused on the crimson petals. "Maybe that's why he likes Superman so much."

Golem, who was sitting at Dryad's feet, chuckled. "I bet that's true."

Lampads' mouth quirked in amusement. "Nevertheless…"

"I wish they had learned," Succubus muttered. She looked down nervously into her own lap. "My uncle was a good Martian. Despite all that he did…"

"If you asked me, Princess, I think they're all getting what's coming to them." Pyroead shook his head. "Yeah, so what if they were good people? They messed up where it counted."

_(such a mess)_

"That's putting it kindly," Nymph added. "This is about what they owe us. What they should have owed us."

"My former king has failed his duties to his subject," Kraken said. "Someone must stop him before he continues."

Onyx felt Harpy frown, his own pain and grief radiating off of him. She could feel his heart too, the only beating heart left out of all of her children. Sometimes he mentioned what a burden it was to be the only one left. She wondered why he stayed, when all of the doubts within his head seemed to constantly scream at him. But he was still there after everything.

"Are you sure that you all want to fight?" Muse asked. She was holding the dagger-

_(my dagger my anchor after all that is left)_

-in both hands, almost as if to cradle it. "I can hold no promises for our ends."

"We're ready, Mother," Dryad said. The vines he had summoned were returning to the ground. He was holding onto some of their flowers. "There's no better time to end this."

"We already decided what we're doing, Mom," Siren pointed out. "I doubt any of us are going to change our minds."

There were nods of consent all around. While her original children were all at peace with their choice, Onyx was interested in her latest additions. Golem was steady; he did not have the hopes and dreams that the others once had. He did not know what else to expect besides pain. Kraken was steady for a different reason. His beliefs in justice and in his love carried him far. If things had been different, she had no doubt that he would have been a great leader.

Succubus and Harpy were hesitant, each for their own reasons. For the Martian, this was the final test. She had seen humans who failed to have a trace of goodness within them. That, more than any other force-

_(including my influence including her love)_

-had sent her down the warpath. Her optimism, however, still lurked in her heart. She still wanted to believe.

Harpy was simply alive. He didn't want to make the jump, and none of them could find fault in that.

Muse smiled. "Then I wish you all the best. And may we be luckier in the next realm where we meet."

Onyx floated away. She had wished for a better life for all of her children when she brought them back from the dead. She had hoped that-

_(if I was lucky maybe)_

-they would find better lives. Normal lives, maybe.

She went deeper into the caverns. Even without her influence, they would have gotten as tired as her. While in their humanity they had found the strength, in death they had found no other reason to continue beyond revenge.

It would be fitting to finally rest. But whether it actually happened or not was yet to be seen.

* * *

><p><strong>October 11, 9:27 PM<br>Gotham**

_(inhale)_

It was hard for Clark to focus. The sound of the humming continued-

_(exhale)_

-and it brought out a deep sense of pain and guilt from within him. He wanted to focus, had to focus-

_(inhale)_

-had to-

_(it's my fault always my fault I let them die why did I do that to them)_

He screamed. His throat was already hoarse.

_(I deserve this I)_

There was the sound of cracking. His confinements fell away from his body, and he collapsed onto the ground.

"Focus, Kal-El."

_(it was always my_

_inhale_

_exhale)_

Clark looked up. Doctor Fate was floating above him. There were no marks on him to indicate any struggle. The Kryptonian wondered briefly how much magic the spirit exerted in order to escape.

"How did you…"

"I have known this woman from my dimension," Fate explained. There was something in the tone of his words that Clark could not identify, although it sounded familiar. "She was once my teacher. It is saddening to see her as a Lady of Chaos."

"Chaos?" The Kryptonian could hear some of the melody start up again. He shook his head to clear it. "She… she betrayed you all?"

"Yes. It was a troubling time. But we had captured her and extracted justice on her. We were not aware that her banishment-"

_(banishment?)_

"-would cause such a problem."

"If…" Clark paused, trying to get his thoughts in order. "_Where _was she banished to?"

Fate remained silent.

_(no)_

"You… you banished her _here?_ Where she has more power than the average human?" Something in his voice cracked, and the raw pain intensified. Still, he struggled to stand. "Why… why-"

"A mistake that we are paying for grievously."

"Why would you do such a thing? How… How could you justify that? You sent a dangerous woman to our world, when we aren't even aware that she was even here until you-"

_(you risked us all)_

"It was for the greater good," Fate said.

_(no)_

The Kryptonian fell back to his knees, his stomach revolting at the mere thought. He had trusted the magician, even to go so far as to allow him to use Batman and-

"Oh God."

_(how could I let him?)_

"That's what you said then, too. When you said that we have to sacrifice them. You said we had to allow them to die, that we couldn't do anything else. Because that it was for the greater good and that Bruce would understand and-"

_(and they died I let them die)_

His stomach churned again.

Dr. Fate had turned his attention elsewhere. He moved his hands-

_(but those were never his hands they were Zatara's hands are Zatara's hands_

_his daughter oh God we left her)_

-in strange formations. Clark could feel the strands of magic the magician was pulling along. It wasn't aimed at him, but there was still a well of fear forming at the base of his head.

"Onyx had performed some dangerous magic on your friends. I suspect that it has been in place for decades, hidden and therefore unknowable. It was only because I was released for that battle six years ago that I noticed it. Her soul, it seems, was fragmented into pieces upon her arrival. Instead of keeping them in some semblance together, she placed the pieces into different containers. This included your friends."

"W-what?" Clark said.

"There was really nothing else that I could do but choose to eliminate Batman and his family before they were contaminated further. Fate was against them. I chose to make it less painful for them to suffer through." Fate dropped his hands, and the helm turned to look at Clark. "I did not want to burden you with the truth. There was no method that I could come up with to tell you everything about the matter." He paused for a second, uneasiness rolling off of him just like the magic did moments before. "I had suffered greatly when I lost her to Chaos. She was my teacher and friend. I had hoped to spare you from the pain."

_(not malicious cares for us wants to make up for his mistakes)_

"But… but what happened?" Clark asked, looking over his shoulder to the remains of his prison. The Bruce he had known would have had such a contraption. But it was this unknown Bruce-

_(Lampads he called himself Lampads)_

-who had taunted him and was promising the death of others if he were not stopped.

"As I have said, she had lodged fragments of her soul into theirs. It is known throughout the realms that the fragment can corrupt the rest of the soul if it is powerful enough. The personality retains much of the same form, but the thoughts gradually change. The container can be influenced into making different decisions."

"Like revenge," Clark said, the thought dawning on him. "But… but Bruce is smarter than that. He knows how to separate illogical thought from fact."

_(he always had to do it for us for the greater good)_

He ignored the thought and continued. "Would a soul fragment be able to sway him so far?"

"Onyx is a strong Lady. I have no doubt that she would have been able to do such a thing."

Footsteps approached, causing Clark to tense. He wanted to run before they arrived. Preparing oneself mentally for fighting friends was impossible at that second, knowing now what he should have known before-

But the footsteps were familiar; it took the Kryptonian a moment to identify each step pattern as someone from the Justice League.

"We heard," Oliver muttered as he entered the cavern, Red Arrow following behind. "And can you please not to the talk projection thing without some warning? I'm at least use to J'onn doing it."

"This is no times for common pleasantries," Fate said gravely. With another wave of his hands, both archers' equipment appeared out of thin air and floated before them. Clark squinted at them, and realize they weren't the actual weapons. While the box and arrows were of the exact same shape, everything was bathed in a golden glow. "We must fight, gentlemen."

"Yeah, another thing about that. When the fuck were you going to tell us what this was really about?!" The man lunged forward, his fist raised. Before it could connect against the Helm, however, it met an invisible barrier. "I might not have agreed with Bats, but fuck! He did not deserve this!"

"You cannot understand as a human. You already feel upset for what has transpired, but you must know that the man you thought you knew is long gone. What is left in his place is a monster."

"No." Barry's voice, weakened by his screams but carried by his emotions, echoed throughout the cavern. "That _monster_ is still Bruce. That _monster_ wants us dead because of what we did to his family." He looked around, trying to catch all of their eyes. Clark looked away before Barry looked at him. "Wouldn't we have done the same? Wouldn't we have wanted to make those who go after our families suffer?"

"He's gone too far-" Clark began.

"I'm surprised that he hasn't gone farther! For years, I thought that he would go after Iris! Do you know how many panic attacks I've had when I didn't find her home? But not once have they gone after her-"

"They killed Lois!" Clark shot back.

The words echoed, and the grief and shock of each of his team members' faces were clearly evident.

"Ho... How did you find out?" J'onn finally asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Superboy-"

_(he called himself Golem said it was my fault)_

"-brought the body to mock me." He turned away. "I'm sorry, Barry. I know that you still think that they are justified. But they brought innocents into their act of revenge. We can't allow them to continue."

"I…" Barry paused, and Clark could hear the man's discomfort in his words. "I don't mean that they are right. But… But I can see where they are coming from. I understand why they did what they did. We… We created them, didn't we?"

_(is it really our fault we were only doing what we thought was right and_

_no)_

"We created the situation. But even if they were the ones in control, they have damaged everything we hold dear," Clark said in a steady voice. "If they have chosen this path, it makes them the guilty ones. We have to stop them."

_(we owe it to them)_

"I..." Oliver swallowed. His fingers twitched, and he reached for the bow before pulling back. "We do owe them that, don't we?"

"They must be stopped." It was the first time Orin spoke, and his voice was still obviously suffering from the constant screaming. Yet the king remained steady. He curled his hand into a fist and said no more. Clark was afraid to ask what had happened since he had gone missing.

J'onn and Red Arrow-

_(clone just as dangerous as Superboy as painful as_

_but I made him I hated him enough)_

-nodded their agreement.

It was only Barry who hesitated. "Is this really right?"

"You should not doubt this task. We must succeed in removing their influence before they ruin this world," Dr. Fate stated. His voice was not inviting any argument.

"You keep saying that! But- but-"

"If you are an unwilling participant to righting this wrong, we can send you elsewhere." There was a threat underlying his voice.

"And we're supposed to trust you? After you lied to us? How can we believe that you aren't going to do the same thing to us?"

"This matter is one of a special condition."

"Well-"

"_Enoug__h,"_ Clark commanded. His voice contained the strength he wasn't aware that he currently possessed. Slowly, he rose back to his feet. It took him longer to concentrate on flying. "We can't fight now. We don't have time. Barry, you can find us an escape. We don't know where exactly we are. We'll come after you."

"After you kill your best friend again?"

The sting hurt. Clark wanted to shudder, but he suppressed the urge; there was no time now to show weakness. "He's not Bruce anymore. Bruce wouldn't kill anyone."

"But-"

J'onn raised his hand, stopping Barry from continuing. There must have been a silent conversation between the two, for the speedster's face contorted a few times before it fell. "Fine," Barry finally mutters before disappearing in a burst of speed.

Fate nodded, lifting his hands and muttering a spell. The group watched him, but not without doubts; Oliver and J'onn shared a look between themselves. Even Clark became a little apprehensive. When Fate's volume increased, Clark looked at all of the heroes in turn. They were all tense, as if waiting-

_(to be sacrificed)_

-for something unfortunate to happen.

After a few minutes, Fate addressed them. "We are lucky that Onyx cannot sustain an invincibility spell on so many. I have dampened their defenses, however, so it should be easier to end them."

"End them?" Oliver repeated. "So we really are going to kill them again, aren't we?"

_(don't say it like that)_

"This will save and redeem them," Clark said. "We owe them that much."

* * *

><p><strong>October 11, 9:53 PM<br>Gotham**

"You have betrayed us all, Kaldur!"

The half-Atlantean smiled, lifting his water bearers to form a shield. It blocked an oncoming blow from the older man's fist. "The lies again, my king? I had hoped that you had learned."

"They have corrupted you!"

"Please," Siren muttered. She felt like she was chastising a villain-

_(weird role reversal)_

-for talking too much. "Are you really that self-deluded?"

"Kaldur-"

"No." Kraken pushed his shield upwards to unbalance Orin. Siren followed his lead, lifting a hand to summon a column of water from seemingly nowhere. It barreled straight at Orin, forcing him back. "I cannot return to any kingdom of yours in good conscience. Not when you shall lead them with less than true feelings."

"You're not telling the full truth either, Kaldur'ahm," Siren said. Kraken bristled slightly under the use of his original name. She kept her hand raised, feeling the power from the summoned water that had fallen to the floor. She allowed it to sit, however; she instead watched as his former king steady himself against the wall. "You loved Tula enough to save the kingdom from themselves. Civil war is nasty business, after all."

_(she was always a first love always there carved into his heart)_

The thought didn't trouble her; Siren had always known it to be that way. She had never felt like a rebound despite this knowledge. Kraken had still loved her fully.

_(would he had loved me before we were broken?)_

"We shall do Atlantis another favor, then, by ending the life of the king who has lost his way," Kraken said. The water bearers changed from a shield to a mace. The water he used was crystal clear, a stark contrast from when the blood of Black Manta's team was mixed in. "You should submit yourself to proper judgment."

Orin deflated; it was a small gesture, but something about it disturbed Siren. "I am sorry that it comes to this, Kaldur'ahm. And I am sorry that we could not help you sooner, Artemis."

Siren froze. "Excuse me?"

"You had deserved better."

"Is… Is that an apology?" Something in her burned. "Are you kidding me?! You sorry excuse for a living being-"

"Siren," Kraken muttered. He lifted one of his arms, the water bearer in it starting to melt away. She glared at him.

_(no time for sympathy anymore far too late)_

She turned back to Orin. "You're only sympathetic when you think it wasn't our fault. That we were corrupted, right? Do you have any guilt yet? Any pure, genuine guilt?"

The sound of fighting from elsewhere in the maze of caverns washed over the three. Beneath it, Siren could feel the pulsating flow of water in the underground rivers that surrounded the caves. For a second, she recalled what it had first been like waking up after death. There was so much water, so much movement around her.

_(but none of it was alive)_

After a moment, she muttered, "I thought so." She waved her hand again, calling the water back up from the ground and sending a powerful current at the Atlantean. Orin was sent crashing into the wall, slowly losing his ability to breathe in all of the chaos.

Kraken approached her from behind. "Are you okay, my love?"

"I-" She faltered, and the torrent lost some of its power. "I hate pity."

_(because they pretended to care so long they didn't save me my dad was drowning me no one cared no one saved me)_

The half-Atlantean nodded at her once. "It is tough."

"It's not fair, you mean."

"I-"

There was a hoarse yell, full of pure rage. Siren turned her attention back to Orin. She wasn't even aware that she had turned her attention away in the first place. If only she had pay vigilante attention and remembered her own words-

_(but it doesn't really matter now)_

-she would have remembered that the king of Atlantis was strong magically.

It had been a point of interesting discussion long ago between the two water-affinities of the group. Siren could not believe that Orin would ignore studying magic himself. Kraken had offered her a half smile before launching into an explanation. The leader of Atlantis was not expected to learn magic. Most were actually discouraged from such a practice. When Siren had asked why, the half-Atlantean said it was a dose of tradition and fear that kept the lead monarchs from learning.

That was not to say that they were deprived of any magic.

It had taken time and their continuous torture to break down the artificial barriers that kept Orin's magic in check. It was not on purpose, but they had done it. And with a final blast, the man sent the two flying into the cavern wall behind them. It shattered on impact.

By the time Siren was aware of the things outside of pain, the two were already falling to their deaths.

Kraken had already registered what was to happen. He had dropped his water bearers and reached for her hand. She pulled him into an embrace, and counted the few seconds before they hit the floor.

_(I love you)_

Neither of them registered the impact, their voices silent.

* * *

><p><strong>October 11, 10:05 PM<br>Gotham**

Sylph watched as Pyroead sent a long blaze of fire towards the two archers. There was a maniacal smile on the other's face. He had a feeling that his lover was looking forward to killing Red Arrow, despite of their plan.

_(letting loose finally)_

The acrobat raised a hand and sent his own gust of wind around the edges of the enclosed space, funneling the flames. He was not against killing the red head clone. The man had hurt a lot of people with his actions-

_(Jade poor Jade)_

-and needed to be properly reminded of his sins.

Despite of the elements, Green Arrow shot an arrow through the flames. It flew true and unaffected, landing a glancing blow over Sylph's shoulder. He winced at the sting, turning to note that it had in fact drawn blood. It didn't take much to realize that the arrows had some magical quality in them.

_(do they know what Fate has given them?)_

Pyroead swore. "The quivers have a shield around them."

"Well, you can break shields with pure power, can't you?" Sylph said, hints of teasing in his voice. "Or are you underperforming again?"

"Watch it." Pyroead's eyes seemed to glow, and the fire in turn became bigger. "Besides, I don't see you doing anything."

"I thought we agreed no hurricanes beneath sea level." Sylph summoned another gust of wind to deal with the next barrage of arrows. The magic within them became more evident as they stubbornly stuck to their path. Both Sylph and Pyroead stepped out of the way.

"Should I ask why the lack of trackers?"

"No jinxing things. Remember what happened-"

"You don't need to keep bringing it up."

"Yes I do." Sylph chuckled.

Over the roar of the flame, Red Arrow shouted. "Die!"

"Coming off a little strongly there!" Pyroead shouted back.

"Isn't there some unspoken rule about not killing?" Sylph asked. He paused dramatically, trying to contain his glee before he really did summon a twister in the cavern. "Oooh, wait, you already broke that rule!"

"Bad clone, bad. Looks like they didn't make you right," Pyroead teased.

_(hope Golem doesn't hear that)_

Red Arrow let out an inhuman scream. He shot a single arrow through the tunnel. Before it touched the flames, it had multiplied into a shower.

"Well, shit." Pyroead directed his flames to the ceiling, melting rocks to create a sheet of lava between them and the arrows. To Sylph's astonishment, most of the arrows were trapped. A few, however, slipped through.

_(more magic more dangerous more)_

It was less than half a second, but Sylph could hear it. The movement of air, the sudden gasp and the shock that paralyzed people who aren't yet ready for action.

_(the kind that kills people)_

Without conscience thought, Sylph stepped in the path of the arrows. Pain spiked through his body, but he made sure that all the arrows hit him and only him.

Behind him, he could hear Wally gasp.

_(you're not supposed to die yet Wally)_

* * *

><p><strong>October 11, 10:09 PM<br>Gotham**

Pyroead knew what Sylph was going to do. He could feel the pain ripple through the older man, the air around Pyroead choking before giving him a tender hug goodbye. A part of him wanted to know why him-

_(why not me? you could have escaped leave this nightmare)_

-while the rest of him burned in rage.

"Now you're getting it!" he shouted, slowly backing towards the body while using all of his power to summon a fire storm. It lashed out at the two archers, forcing them to back up.

"Sylph…" Pyroead turned around to see that Wally had fallen down by the dying-

_(dying again)_

-form. "Why?"

The body trembled once. Sylph's eyes-

_(blue calm)_

-blinked. "We…"

"We already went over it," Pyroead interjected. He leaned over Sylph himself, looking at the arrows and the wounds. Their bodies were still able to produce blood, more as a side effect than anything else. The blood that the arrows were able to draw out, however, was beginning to turn black. "You should leave."

"I should be fighting with you all!" Wally hissed back. His eyes were locked with Sylph's.

Pyroead looked at the wounds again. "Kid, he's using extremely dark magic. Like, all hail the new Chaos Lord shit."

"And you need-"

"We need you to leave," Pyroead said. "There's nothing else that you can do."

"But-"

"We've gone over the plan. You need to survive."

_(you have to see this through we can't)_

"I…" Wally reached for Sylph's hand. The other man smiled. The light was fading from his eyes. "Okay. I… I…"

"Go, kid. Leave this part to us." Pyroead placed his hands over both of theirs.

"I… Thank you." Wally leaned over Sylph and kissed him briefly. In the next second, he had pressed his lips against Pyroead's. "I won't forget this. Ever."

Pyroead nodded. And in a flash, Wally was gone.

He looked down at Sylph-

_(Dick)_

-and sighed. The man's eyes were lifeless, turning black from whatever magic was used in the arrows. "Saved the last kiss for him, huh." He brushed his lips against the other's. "In the next world, then."

He got up. The sea of flames was starting to get wilder.

"This is the last fucking time I promise not to kill someone, though."

He took in a deep breath, and put all of his energy in the flames. They burned higher, scorching the rock formations around them. He could hear the two archers shouting. Oliver Queen was confused. Red Arrow was just full of anger.

Pyroead sat down next to Sylph's corpse. The heat was demanding more from him. He gave it, despite the pain his body began to scream with. Before he could completely black out, he reached out and grasped Sylph's hand.

_(I've had a worse death)_

* * *

><p><strong>October 11, 10:26 PM<br>Gotham**

The landscape of Succubus's mind was chaotic. Before she had died-

_(before I had allowed her to die)_

-Succubus had an organized mind. Clean and untarnished. The Martian had to keep it that way; she lived in constant fear of J'onn finding out the truth. So she was a good Martian, modeling the appearance of her mind after some of her favorite places. Most often it looked like the caves hidden away in Happy Mountain.

That had changed after her death, and Nymph had witnessed it all. Gotham had started to bleed into the image. Shadows appeared, with broken glass and metallic glares everywhere one turned. Sometimes there were blood splatters on the mental sidewalks.

Nymph also found an abundance of mirrors. Windows, puddles, and broken glass all acted more as a mirror than anything else.

_(and every time that Succubus looks it's a White Martian)_

"Release me, M'gann!" J'onn's voice echoed within the streets. He was running through, as confused as he was the day they had captured him. "I do not want to hurt you."

"You shouldn't lie," M'gann called back. She was standing on the edge of one of the buildings, looking down at the Green Martian. "I would have believed you before."

"M'gann!" he shouted. "End this!"

"No." She stepped off the edge and floated down. "If someone has to stop us, then someone needs has to stop _you."_

Nymph smiled as she slipped out of the mindscape. She could feel the chaos of the battle in the caverns as she returned to her senses. The area was full of shouts and bursts of power everywhere. Already there were minds stuffed out by death.

She frowned, trying to reach out to the minds of the Justice League. They were all blocked out; all Nymph could feel was their presence and any strong emotion that leaked through.

_(Fate's playing a hard game)_

She looked down the end of the hallway before them. M'gann had lured her uncle into a dead end before trapping him in her mindscape. The two prone figures were standing as stiff as statues in their confrontation.

Nymph pulled out a dagger that she was carrying around. If she wanted to, all she had to do was strike the Martian. M'gann could leave with Wally, and enjoy life outside of the pain they shown her.

_(but she already decided)_

Nymph turned her attention back towards the Justice League. While Fate had managed to shield them all, he was not well verse in the mind arts as a whole. Breaking his spell would take time, but it would be the best way that she could help.

_(even now I'm the support in the background)_

She followed the shape of the mental shields, trying to understand how they were held up. Pure magic was not enough to maintain them; a strong sense of mind had to lay the foundation. How all of them managed to keep a clear mind after everything was an astounding question.

_(not a strong mind but a strong belief)_

She growled as the realization hit her. Emotions were a powerful force, whether the person was logical or not. Nymph and M'gann had used that to their advantage often. Emotions were blinding and often impeded judgment. At the same time, when utilized correctly, they became a powerful force to contend with.

_(Dad was like that logical but emotional_

_and then the emotions got to be too much)_

Nymph shook her head. She didn't like dwelling on the thought of Commissioner Gordon. It was one of the few things that made her regret her choices in this new life. The man would have given some sympathy, but she doubted that he would have given his consent for what was happening.

"But you all believe in your cause so much," Nymph muttered, turning her thoughts back onto the heroes. "You keep thinking that it was worth throwing away our lives."

She reached out against the shields, searching for the equivalent of doubt in each mass. Flash's shield was nonexistent; the man was running for the exit and not worth her time. Aquaman's was rather steady, doubt mixed in with a sense of justice. There was a sense of sadness that hummed from him as well. The two archers were almost complete opposites; Red Arrow was full of rage while there was hesitation all throughout Green Arrow.

Nymph didn't bother trying to find Fate. They had already suffered the consequences from his unrelenting point of view.

Superman, however, was the most interesting to observe. His mental shield presented a constant applied force of justice and belief in what he had chosen. But there were moments, fleeting seconds that had no discernable pattern, where the doubt called through. The realization almost made Nymph laugh. They had never seen Superman doubt himself until now. It was a sight to behold.

_(but it's too late now)_

Without looking back, Nymph reached out for Succubus's hand. The girl was radiating her own worry and sadness, masked beneath her strength.

"Well, let's shake things up a bit."

Nymph found Superman's mind again. It was caught in a strong pulse of revulsion aimed at Lampads. She giggled and waited.

_(there)_

Lampads had said something that brought the doubt to the surface of the shield. In the brief second, Nymph shoved her own memories through. The pain was still as brilliant as it was when the Riddler had her killed. It stung, and she could feel the Kryptonian shutter as the sensations went through him. His shields weakened further.

Nymph quickly shoved through her memories of doubt-

_(where is the League why won't they help someone help someone stop them they'reallgoingtodieohpleaseGod)_

-to Superman. The mental shield shattered away instantly, leaving his mindscape exposed to her. It was in ruins; shaped vaguely like Metropolis, it was a mixture of bright colors and death all around. Where the Daily Planet should have been was the collection of statues that stood at the Hall of Justice. There was obvious ware to all of the pieces, but it was Batman's that was the worse. It had been destroyed and rebuilt so many times that it was hard to discern the original shape. She only knew that it was supposed to be Bruce because of what she remembered and-

_(his mind will go to pieces soon)_

Suddenly she was dragged out of Superman's mindscape. She blinked, watching at the darkness before her pull back to reveal the two archers. Red Arrow was shouting, notching an arrow and ready to shoot, but Green Arrow was shouting at his former protégé. The man was shouting and trying to stop Red Arrow and it made no sense yet-

Then she registered the pain and understood.

Without another regard to the outside world, she slipped back into M'gann's mindscape. The city had gotten darker, windows shattered everywhere that one looked. The two Martians stood, facing each other in the desolated street under separate street lamps. There was an echo in the area, a mixture of the residual words and feelings that were pulsing through them. M'gann's eyes were full of tears.

_(so close)_

"M'gann!" Nymph reached out and took the other girl into her arms. She tucked her head in the girl's shoulder, and tried to remember how they had laid together in bed over the years.

M'gann froze. "No. No-"

"I love you," Nymph muttered into her shoulder. The pain was biting away at her, grabbing her consciousness and stuffing it away forever. "But we have to go now."

"No! They don't deserve this! They-"

"It doesn't matter," Nymph whispered back. "Not to us."

"I-" M'gann twisted herself around and clung back. "I love you too."

The arrow that went through their heads was swift. Neither could register the moment when they died again.

* * *

><p><strong>October 11, 10:45 PM<br>Gotham**

"Nymph and Succubus are dead," Kon muttered.

"I hope they said their goodbyes," Dryad whispered back. "Well, shall we?"

_(it was going to happen anyways)_

Kon reached over and grasped Dryad's hand. "Can I tell you something first?"

"Yeah?"

The clone smiled at him. "I liked being a weapon."

_(and it's my fault)_

Dryad smiled back. "I love you too."

They leaned into each other and shared a chaste kiss. Then Kon let go of Dryad's hand, and leapt down from their ledge and into the battle that was raging below them. He landed on Superman's back, momentarily stunning the Kryptonian. Then both were in flight, Kon expertly dodging Superman's heat vision.

Dryad turned around and followed the hallway behind him into a different section of the caverns. There, Gotham and Fate were battling each other in flares of brilliant magic. Gotham was taunting the Lord of Order with a solemnness in her voice. Fate, on the other hand, seemed to be emotionally unbalanced while he fought his former mentor. It was hard to tell if he had any remorse at all.

_(will he be able to justify it still when it is all over?)_

Dryad shook his head. He didn't care if the Lord of Order found redemption anymore. He had stopped caring about redemption altogether.

He reached out for the boulders that were scattered around the floor with his plants. He enjoyed his powers over the living organisms, but sometimes he entertained imaginations of being the ruler of the earth. It may have been a colder existence.

_(unsuitable)_

With a flick of his wrist, he had the boulders tossed at Fate. The magician had managed, in time, to create shields to block the blows. It was enough of a distraction, however, for Gotham to cast a final spell.

The helm was cracked into two pieces as it fell away from Zatara's head. The magician underneath shuddered before collapsing onto the ground himself.

Gotham looked up to Dryad at his perch above them, and nodded. He smiled back and turned away.

_(an easy trick for a self-righteous fool)_

Fate was not dead from the destruction of the Helm; his power was instead split apart. His spirit may have also fractured into two pieces; no one had a clear answer of whether it was possible or not. It was an interesting question to entertain, but Dryad did not dwell on it. He walked away with only a thought.

_(can we sleep now?)_

The moment he returned to the other room, Kon was letting out a final scream.

_(Superman was always willing to kill him)_

Dryad had no illusions of a romantic farewell to the clone. The others had been lucky enough to get that sort of ending.

"I love you, Kon," he whispered. The clone managed to tilt his head upwards to look at Dryad one last time. Then his eyes closed and his burnt body smacked against the floor, creating a crater around him.

Dryad waited until the body stopped moving. "I always knew that you wanted Superboy dead, Superman. You were enjoying yourself, weren't you?"

The Kryptonian looked up, instinct and emotion chasing away his rationality. "You!"

"Yes, me. You really shouldn't be that surprised," Dryad said. His eyes flickered to Lampads, who shook his head.

_(of course he's still dense)_

"Such an absolute failure, Kent. Did Kon tell you who killed Lois?"

Dismay was quick to appear on Superman's face. "No."

"Kon barely even knew anything about her. But I was sick of her. She kept calling for you over and over-"

"You monster!"

"And even when you didn't show up, she just kept screaming." Dryad let out a particularly vicious smirk. "Really, why would you like-"

The boy was dead before he could even come up with the words. Superman's fist had smashed through Dryad's chest cavity and his eyes were glowing bright red. What remained of his corpse fell next to Kon's; surprisingly and sickeningly romantic and ironic.

* * *

><p><strong>October 11, 10:53 PM<br>Gotham**

Bruce forced himself to remain still as Superman killed both Kon and Dryad. He had made a promise, and he did not want to break it. They were all too tired to keep up with anything else.

_(but isn't that still a failure of a parent?)_

He turned to look at his wife. There was a hardness in her eyes as she watched, her fingers tapping on the dagger she was holding. She had made the same promise, although she had said nothing about the pain she was to inflict on Superman.

_(our turn our final bow)_

Bruce reached out for the shadows around them. With careful precision, he wrapped them around Clark and brought the Kryptonian slamming into the ground.

"We always knew that you were a murderer, Clark," he said. The Kryptonian was already fighting against the bonds. "I should have killed you the moment that we met."

"You don't understand! You're corrupted!"

"And whose fault is that? We were doing well before you allowed us to die." Bruce stepped forward. He took out a box from his back pocket.

_(it's time)_

"Or should I say that you killed us? That is what you did." He opened the box, and Superman let out a scream of pain. "You gave this to me, remember? You told me to stop you before you've gone too far yourself. I may be a little late, but I intend to keep my promise."

Bruce took out the chunk of Kryptonite. It was a small piece; it had been able to fit into Dryad's-

_(he was Tim then)_

-hand so easily before.

Muse stepped forward. "Gotham told me about Krypton. I would give you my regrets if you weren't working with your planet's murderer-"

Kryptonians were susceptible to magic, whether it was to help them or harm them. Bruce had never figured out why in either of his lifetimes. But in that one moment, magical residue worked in Clark's favor. He suddenly gained his ability to use his powers despite of the Kryptonite. His heat vision activated as he glared at Muse-

_(Paula her name was Paula)_

Bruce pushed her away and took the hit instead. The piece of Kryptonite dropped to the ground next to Superman, close enough that pain took over and his powers stopped.

* * *

><p><strong>October 11, 10:55 PM<br>Gotham**

Muse could feel the others rushing towards her. She wanted to stop them all, the same way that Nymph had when they had gone after the League in the Hall of Justice. She needed time to mourn her children again, mourn her husband again and hate the world with everything within her.

But even in this second life, she was not allowed the luxury.

She was quick to take up the Kryptonite and plunge it into Superman's shoulder. It was not enough to kill him yet, but she didn't care for that. She just wanted him in pain.

_(almost time)_

"You'll have a lot to think about in hell," she muttered. Then, looking up at the other arriving heroes, she said, "You all will."

Red Arrow was aiming a golden arrow at her. Muse raised her hand, and suddenly all of the arrows that the two archers had were disintegrated into dust. "You will find that I was gifted differently than my children and husband. A mother can understand a mother rather well."

"Paula-" Martian Manhunter said.

"No. You let Paula die. I'm all that's left." She smiled. "Only me and Gotham. That's what happened last time, too. Did Fate ever tell you how he killed me personally?"

"No." Superman struggled to sit up, unable to hold his shoulder because of the Kryptonite embedded. "No, he- He couldn't have-"

"He had to kill me himself; I wouldn't leave the cave. Funny how my paralysis saved me for a few more hours." She tilted the dagger forward. "And when I was brought back with that horrible memory, I find that you all were justifying and denying that you were involved in our deaths. That it was all a coincidence.

"And I had to watch my children suffer. Lampads was always rather good at understanding betrayal. He expected it sometimes. But my children? They weren't ready for betrayal. They had to learn very fast, learn how the Lord of Chaos that sent Krypton to its doom-"

Clark choked, then coughed up blood. Muse looked down at him and gave him an icy smile.

"He didn't tell you everything still, did he? He killed your planet, Clark Kent. There was so much Order that the universe balanced it with Chaos. With death. And Fate still thought he was right. He was banished here himself for his crimes. And still he played hero."

_(and we had all believed him)_

"Paula, we shouldn't…" Ollie stuttered. "We shouldn't have-"

"Save it." Muse threw the dagger to the ground. It was finally time. "You have had too much time for us to want to forgive you. It is more appropriate to end it all, isn't it?"

She looked at each of them in turn. "Remember what you did to us."

Breathing out one last time, Muse sent all of her power at the dagger. Every single bit of her was forced into the material. She pushed and formed what little of the Chaos she could. The dagger had most of its defenses stripped from it, mostly due to Dr. Fate's original curse. But it was only with all of the magic and energy that was placed into her-

_(what was keeping me alive)_

-that Muse could shatter the container and the soul within.

Before she lost conscience, Muse could feel the caverns around them starting to collapse.

"What is going on?!"

**(thank you)**

* * *

><p><strong>And this is why I am not allowed to own DC characters.<strong>


	15. Ghosts

**This is the last chapter. Holy fan fiction, Batman.**

**I don't own Young Justice.**

* * *

><p><strong>October 15, 2:16 PM<br>Remains of Gotham**

_Dear Cassandra,_

_I wish that this letter could be without these final instructions. But I am afraid._

_There are moments, even now, where I doubt myself and what I am about to do. I do honestly believe that I would have made these same exact choices had I survived that night. I would not have allowed the Justice League to get away with killing my family. But I am certain that part of this rage is not my own. I fear that the soul fragments have affected us more than we thought._

_As of this moment, the soul fragments are keeping us alive and giving us our powers. Gotham had said herself that she believes the fragments have very little of her personality. Our wills should have naturally overpowered any of their influences._

_I think this used to be the case before we had died. Our deaths triggered something, so that they no longer were simply a source of power, but also an influencer of our anger. We are no longer the only master of our actions. I am not using this as an excuse. However, we may have been encouraged._

_I talked with Tim on this matter, and he agrees that a weak mind can also be susceptible to the influence. This is now my leading theory about the Joker's insanity. This indicates that the living can be affected too._

_I believe that, whatever turmoil you may face, you will be stronger than the fragment within you. I am honestly not concerned about you, Cassandra. You have always been one of the strongest._

_These instructions are not meant for your demise._

Cassandra folded the letter, her eyes catching sight of the paragraph written on the back of the last page. She looked back up at the ruins of the city.

Gotham had collapsed upon itself; it had lost its foundation and brought down buildings and people with it. The landscape had grown harsh. Towers had been utterly destroyed or remained crooked and overbearing on the rubble below. Streets were drowned in debris. She could hear the screams of the dying still. There were trucks trying to enter the city in order to help, but the bridges had fallen as well.

She looked at the end of the letter.

_You have made me incredibly proud. You have overcome all of the obstacles in your life and became a beautiful young woman. Thank you for everything you have done for us. I am sorry for leaving you with the aftermath._

_You are my daughter, and I am so proud of you._

_Love, Bruce_

* * *

><p><strong>October 16, 10:07 AM<br>Washington DC**

Clark rolled his head to the side, blinking against the harsh red light that was shining down on him. He closed his eyes, trying to recall what had happened.

_(Paula Bruce Gotham)_

He pushed himself up immediately. His head protested and a headache engulfed him. There was a metal collar around his neck, the weight heavy and cold. His right shoulder screamed in pain, almost forcing him back down onto the bed.

_(what happened?)_

Clark tilted his head and opened his eyes again. He was on a bed in a room drenched in red light. There was a glass wall separating him from what appeared to be a hallway.

"Hello?" he called out. There was something wrong with his voice; it was hoarse, as if he had been yelling for days. Still he persisted. "Hello?"

"The patient seems to be awake." A man walked into view. He was wearing a white lab coat and was carrying a clipboard. A large chain was attached to the clipboard with a chunk of Kryptonite swinging from the other end.

"Who are you?" Clark tried to get up again, but only managed to put himself in more pain. "Sir?"

The man looked up. "You don't remember?"

"I-"

_(I killed them again)_

The man was scribbling down notes at a furious pace. "Subject shows no recollection of what had happened. We must see if this has occurred at any other time since his infection."

"My- my what?"

"You, Mister… well, Superman," the man said uncomfortably, "have been infected for the past five years- probably more, but we can't be exactly sure- with some sort of delirium."

_(what?)_

"At least that is the current hypothesis. There are some in the community that believe that your mind must have simply snapped from being under so much pressure. Although having multiple people believe in the same illusion seems like a rather unlikely thing to happen."

"What are you talking about? What illusion?" Clark's memories started to overwhelm him with curiosity. "What about Gotham? And Metropolis? Bruce had- Batman had them destroyed and-"

"You really don't remember, do you?" The man stopped writing. He stepped back to the end of the hallway from where he came. "I… I shouldn't… I…"

"Please, tell me!"

_(this has to be a mix up misunderstanding what happened?)_

The glass suddenly turned into a screen. It was a blown up picture of a news channel, the two reporters looking grave.

"_-been reported that the contaminated members of the Justice League have been taken into custody in the aftermath of the destruction of Gotham. Current analysts believe that the infected heroes destroyed the network of caverns beneath the city. This led to the collapse of the land itself and the end of Gotham City."_

_(no)_

"_This is just days after Superman had gone on a rampage and leveled out most of Metropolis. Evacuation and recovery in both of those areas is looking grim."_

_(no)_

The anchor beside the first one placed her hand towards her ear. _"This just in, folks. The body that Superman was found with is believed to be Batman. Yes, Batman, the protector of Gotham. The body has shown years of decay, but there is still evidence of him being burned to death. It is believed that this could have been caused by Superman."_

_(this can't be this isn't what happened)_

"_I think we may now have the final answer of what happened to the Dark Knight. If these reports turn out to be true, it can be guessed that Superman had killed Batman when Batman approached him. More news in a minute."_

* * *

><p><strong>October 16, 10:29 AM<br>New York City**

Jimmy Olsen woke up with a start, rattled out of some indescribable nightmare. He instantly reached towards the bedside table for a bottle. It took a few tries before he was able to grasp one. He tipped the end into his mouth only to find it empty.

_(screams yells Superman Superman)_

Jimmy threw the bottle at the poster on the opposing wall. It shattered, much like the other bottles had. He kept telling himself that he would throw out the stuff soon. It was just hard to let go of his collection. He had amassed it over the years in honor of the hero and friend he had in Superman. Lois had always made fun of him. Clark would chuckle nervously when the topic was brought up. But Superman would always sign that new poster or-

_(Superman Superman)_

He moaned, and got up on the other side of the bed. He hoped that he still have a bottle or two left somewhere around his apartment. He wasn't ready to take down the posters yet. But until then, he needed something to help him get through the day.

* * *

><p><strong>October 16, 6:35 PM<br>Washington DC**

"That's not what happened!" Red Arrow shouted. "You got it all wrong!"

The woman before him remained stoic, even as she stopped writing on her clipboard. "You continue to tell me that Batman and his sidekicks came to life and were killing people."

He let out a frustrated growl, and pounded his fist on the clear wall between them. When he had first woken up, he had thought it was glass and had tried to break it. It was only after he almost broke his hand that Red Arrow realized that the wall was made of tougher material.

"That's what I'm telling you!"

"While your delusions are of interest-"

"They are not delusions!"

"-I am only trying to help you recover." She tapped the pen against the edge of the clipboard. "And so far, what you are telling me does not line up with the facts."

"What facts?!"

She didn't flinch. "Batman's body was decayed from time. All of the burn marks on it were old. But you tell me that Superman burned him that day, correct?"

_(they're lying somehow they got to them)_

"That _is _what happened."

The woman looked down at her notes again. "You also say that the people the Justice League snatched off the streets were the civilian identities of Bruce Wayne and his family?"

"They were Batman and his family," Red Arrow argued. He found no point in pretending that Batman and Bruce Wayne were two different people. "We picked them up because they had to be stopped. They just-"

"Kept escaping. You mentioned." She began to write again. "I am sorry to be the one who will have to tell you this, but there were video recordings of some of these 'captures.' Each time, they were really ordinary civilians."

"Bullshit!" His head dropped in despair. No one had believed them.

"Ordinary civilians who we can find no trace of in your base of operations." Her frown grew as she spoke. "But if it was anything like that poor girl-"

Red Arrow's head snapped up. "What poor girl?"

* * *

><p><strong>October 17, 8:02 AM<br>Washington DC**

Selina looked over at the beds to the left of hers. The elder man was the closest, only one other bed between him and the door. She could see the bruises on his arms and the tell-tale signs of physical exhaustion. The doctors told her that he was covered with minor injuries, but it was all things that he would heal from. There probably wouldn't even be a scar.

_(not drugs coursing through eating up who he was)_

She bit her tongue, squashing her bitterness. Black Canary had told her what had happened to Zatara. The man was threatened with his daughter's life if he did not comply with the Justice League's demands. It was a different kind of torture; while Barbara had used her temporarily, the Justice League had used him for years. At the very least, Selina was not at all aware of the horrors that went on around her.

In the bed closest to the door was his daughter. The girl was pale and bony, patches of hair missing and markings of horror on her face. There were no bruises, but sometimes Selina wondered if she had any blood left in her at all.

Neither had woken up yet, despite all of care that had been taken.

_(would they want to? after everything?)_

Selina turned towards the window. Gotham was gone, and she had nowhere to go. Her body was close to recovering enough that the doctors would finally release her. It had been years since Barbara Gordon had taken control of Selina and fed the woman a whole library of drugs to keep her complacent. Years since Selina had been able to do anything more than sit in a hospital bed, constantly on the verge of slipping back into a coma.

And now that she was recovering, there was nothing to return to. They had left nothing.

_(a good revenge for them maybe)_

* * *

><p><strong>October 17, 12:27 PM<br>Washington DC**

"Zatanna?" Oliver asked. His emotions were swelling up again. Something had happened, something that changed everyone's memories of what had happened and had made them the bad guys.

_(we are the good guys always aren't we?)_

"I… Superman said we had to hold her accountable for what she did," he continued. He struggled to remember the exact words. Superman had gathered them in the conference room, introducing Dr. Fate as a permanent member. Someone had asked about Zatanna, and all Superman had said was that she had helped Artemis escaped and therefore had to be sent elsewhere.

_(but he never said where to)_

"I… I thought…"

Alice Waller frowned. "If what you are saying is in fact true, then Superman willingly played an active role in keeping this girl in total isolation. She was given nothing but the bare essentials of nutrition and hadn't seen the light of day for _years._ We were only lucky to find her, and that was because she had crawled out of the rubble of the Hall of Justice that you all created."

"That… that isn't what happened. They were after us!" he protested.

"The dead corpse that reanimated itself and somehow left no trace behind on cameras? Are you going to tell me that Batman was a vampire?" The woman scoffed. "There is something wrong with the lot of you. Two large cities are gone and millions are dead. And we want answers."

_(did we really do this?)_

"I'm telling you, it wasn't us!"

"Well, I'm not inclined to believe that you were just listening to your imaginary friends. We are prepared to keep you for as long as necessary. We've already lost too many lives because we let you all run free."

He ran up to the wall, pounding against the glass. "But-"

Waller was already leaving,

Oliver slammed his fist against the wall one last time. He didn't want to believe that they had been wrong. That everything that happened for the past six years had all been an illusion. There was an explanation behind it all.

_(there has to be there is_

_isn't there?)_

* * *

><p><strong>October 19, 1:26 PM<br>Themyscira, coordinates unknown**

Diana sat by Hippolyta's throne, silent as the competitors lined up before them. It was a bitter thing to watch another Amazon be crowned Ambassador to man's world.

_(but maybe it'll hurt less)_

Her mother cast a worried look at her direction before standing up to speak. Diana had not wanted to tell her everything that had happened with the Justice League, and her silence on the issue only increased her mother's worry. It got worse when Hippolyta saw the scars. Still, Diana remained quiet. She finally broke down, however, when Black Canary came with news of the destruction of Metropolis and Gotham.

Diana knew the truth. It wasn't illusions that destroyed the two cities and left scars on her body. But Dinah convinced her to remain quiet. Bruce and his family were already gone, leaving behind corpses that told different stories that what they knew. The truth had gotten Superman and the others locked up. The whole world was shaken and the other heroes were not prepared to deal with even more chaos. Diana had to agree that the truth, at this point, was useless.

_(and don't we deserve this?)_

"Are you okay, my daughter?" Diana looked at Hippolyta. The queen's face was pale with dark circles under her eyes. Diana suddenly hated herself.

"I'm… I will be fine."

Diana sometimes liked to tell herself that her mother took the position of Wonder Woman away from her. That motherly concern overruled every other bit of logic.

But that was an obvious lie. She wanted to let go of the position as much as her mother wanted her to.

_(man's world is a cruel one)_

As the competitors began to organize themselves for the first task, Diana wondered what to bring to Hades's temple later that night. A memory welled up; it was from years ago, where she was beside Bruce's bed while he was recovering in the Watchtower. She had brought him a basket of fruits and scripts from the Amazons' library to stop him from trying to get up. Despite his grumblings, Bruce had smiled at her.

She turned her attention back to the competition. Later, she would bring a basket of fruits to the temple and cry alone in the shadows.

* * *

><p><strong>October 19, 3:18 PM<br>Washington DC**

The Atlantean on the other side of the cell wall looked uncomfortable. From what Orin had managed to get out of the woman, the Atlantis kingdom had obtained special permission to have someone speak to their former king. It was a nicety that neither side was really expecting to be granted. But someone had said yes, and that was all that mattered.

"Mera is recovering? From what?"

The woman trembled slightly at the question. "I… I thought you had heard the report before you disappeared. She had been injured by the traitor Garth."

_(Garth was never the traitor isn't that what you said Kaldur'ahm?)_

"Where is he? There should be a trial to determine what had happened! I cannot believe-"

"He is dead, my- sir. Tula happened to be in the medical bay when he was trying to escape. She died defending us."

_(but he had to be innocent)_

"What about his belongings? Was there really anything to implicate him?"

"After… after a thorough search, we found communicators and recorders that were meant to be given to Black Manta." She bowed her head. "Kaldur'ahm had reported-"

"Where is he?"

The woman flinched. "Kaldur'ahm, sir?"

"Yes. Where is he? Did he run off to cause more havoc-"

"We found his body in what the land dwellers call 'Gotham Harbor.' We believe that he was trying to discover another link from Blank Manta's operations. And then…" She looked away.

_(and then we supposedly destroyed it)_

"What about our contacts from the Justice League? Have they responded to our-" He paused. "Have they responded to the kingdom's request for aid?"

"The Justice League has been disbanded," she said. "The government of this land would like to reform them so that such an incident…" She trailed off.

"I see."

_(what have you done to us Bruce?)_

"I… I should leave, sir. I wish you a speedy recovery," the woman said before fleeing down the hallway.

Orin sighed. If he was lucky, there would be more visits. But it was clear that he no longer had a say in their world. He was as removed from it as land dwellers were.

_(have I been reduced to this?)_

* * *

><p><strong>October 20, 4:30 PM<br>Washington DC**

There were a few mercies in the aftermath. Dinah had to count on them, or else she would be driven insane.

"There were notes found in the remains of Batman's cave," Dinah said. She wondered how she managed to keep her voice steady. "They don't go into much, but they list reasons why Batman believed the others were going insane."

She looked at the heroes gathered around. All of them, sometime in the last five years, had dropped out of the Justice League. The government had looked down on them. No one was willing to tell the government that Batman had come back to life after a betrayal. Some of the heroes never even saw the specters and weren't sure what exactly happened.

Now they were being asked to return to their positions. It was not without its fill of paranoia from civilians and government officials alike-

_(they don't trust us after cities millions)_

-but there was enough fear for public safety to override the immediate worry.

Captain Marvel-

_(just a kid just like no stop it don't think about it now not now)_

-frowned. "I don't get it. The news keeps saying things but I just…"

Dinah nodded. The government had kept their understanding of the tale in closed off labs. She had kept what she knew of the actual truth close to her heart.

"Bruce… No. Batman wrote in his notes about a magic that they had come across in the battle from October." There was no need to mention which specific part of October or even the year; they all knew the case too well at this point. "He said that there was a spell cast, but no one showed any reactions. He had returned to Gotham and began to hypothesize what it may have done."

The lie was too easy. But it was what Bruce had left behind, and she would honor it.

"It's believed that he called Superman to talk, possibly to confront him. Superman is susceptible to magic and was already trapped in a possible illusion. The burn marks-"

Dinah choked on the words. She had seen the body that the government workers had brought in. Waller had specifically picked Dinah to identify it, hoping that the hero would not get overly emotional and therefore distracted from the bigger issues they had to face. Dinah had lived up to her reputation; she did not puke nor cried until she was alone.

"The burn marks indicate that Superman quickly killed him. He also may have gone around and helped orchestrate the deaths of the others," Dinah said. "Afterwards, when the other League members fell under the presumed spell, they took it upon themselves to kill the Gotham criminal population. They also went after civilians, but they may have felt justified at the time."

Hal spoke up. "But we saw Bats tear up the city. We helped stop him!"

Dinah shook her head. "From what video footage that could be salvaged, it looks like we were fighting air. It's believed that J'onn projected the images into our minds."

John crossed his arms and frowned. "I don't like this."

"It gets worse. We found out why Zatara was willing to take on the Helm." She took in a deep breath. Zatara had been found on the edge of Gotham and rushed into private care. Only a select few knew he was even alive. "They were holding Zatanna hostage."

There were gasps of shock all around. Dinah heard someone mutter, "That can't be right."

"Zatanna was found at the entrance of the Hall. It seems that she was finally able to escape after their episode destroyed most of the building."

_(remain strong for all of them)_

"She was able to get to the door, but not further. She was malnourished, dehydrated, and her magic was dying. It's a wonder that she was even alive at all." Dinah shook her head.

_(if I had stayed could I have saved her?)_

"At this point, if we are to remain as a team, we will need to work with the government. There are a lot of different theories bouncing around about why the others snapped. Some don't think that it's magic. Some do. Either way, they want to keep a close eye on us for the foreseeable future."

"Why should we allow them to do that?" Sheyera asked.

Dinah looked at each of the heroes in turn. "Because we have a job to do. We're all that's left of the world's defenses."

_(may God help us)_

* * *

><p><strong>October 29, 7:36 PM<br>Washington DC**

J'onn turned back to his bed. The last psychologist for the day had finished up, leaving him alone for the night. It would be hours before the pattern started again; J'onn would see different scientists come and go. Sometimes they stopped and asked him questions. A few were even sympathetic and would talk to him about mundane things. And then he would be left alone at night.

_(M'gann)_

He crawled back into bed. He had been kept in a drug-induced haze the longest out of those who were taken. Their captors were worried about his powers the most, not knowing how to combat his mental fields properly. A new suppression cuff had to be designed for his containment.

They had shown him the news reports and pictures of the damage. There were a lot of psychologists to test his mind, while medical doctors tested his blood. J'onn remained nonaggressive. He wasn't thinking of ever leaving.

"TV, on." They had allowed him a few channels from the outside world. Some of the psychologists thought that a return to reality from a safe distance would be good for him. They asked him questions about how seeing the world made him feel. J'onn would answer back patiently, unsure if he could ever properly explain how he missed burnt cookies.

He kept one truth to himself: he was not so easily affected by illusions as his teammates were. Only an abnormally strong one-

_(like Paula like M'gann)_

-could trick him.

The television lights flickered at him, and the sounds filled the room. There was almost always news on the excavation of what was left of Gotham and Metropolis. Many were still looking for loved ones in the rubble. The channel that filled his screen was dedicated to showing things found with the dead, in hopes of reuniting some. There would always be someone in the background talking about the recovery efforts and news of the new League of Heroes.

It was the only thing J'onn would ever watch. The pictures were familiar, with new photos of items added daily. Ruined wallets. Clothing and jewelry. Photos of friends and family.

Still, he heard nothing about anyone finding an unusual skeleton. Nor was there news of crushed, unidentifiable goo discovered in the ruins that would remind J'onn of Martian physiology. He watched for anything that told the world that there was once a Martian there. A White Martian, but a Martian nonetheless.

_(M'gann)_

After a few hours, J'onn fell asleep. The television remained on.

* * *

><p><strong>3 years later<br>July 3, 5:12 PM  
>Washington DC<strong>

Zatanna let out a frustrated growl and slammed her fists into the table. She was no closer to a solution than she had been months ago. The man had gotten even better at hiding.

Dinah rubbed her shoulder. "Maybe you should take a break."

"No," Zatanna growled. "We have to stop him this time."

"I understand, but you're overexerting yourself. If you keep this up-"

"I know." Zatanna shook her head, and closed the book that was before her. Softly, she repeated, "I know."

She had gone through every spell that she could find. All of her efforts were meticulously blocked, however, and no amount of magical maneuvering could get around the barriers. How the man was able to do such a feat worried her.

"How could he hide from magic?" she mumbled. "How?"

"Let it go for now," Dinah said, taking the book off of the table. "Your father is probably worried over you."

_(Dad)_

"Alright." Zatanna got up, careful not to move too fast. She had yet to fully recover after being held captive for years. While her magic had steadily improved, it still remained a disconnected entity from her. Zatara feared that Dr. Fate had done away with the natural link between her and her magic. Neither of the two knew if it was a permanent condition.

She gave Dinah a wave before going towards the teleporters. After the destruction of the Justice League and the containment of most of their key members, the remaining heroes were forced to rebuild and regroup. The government provided the group of heroes a new outpost, although Dinah had to argue hard to keep them from interfering too much in the heroes' affairs.

In seconds, Zatanna was teleported into a telephone booth tucked away in a street alley.

It took her several minutes to walk home. People who passed her on the street looked at her before turning away. There were still physical markings on her face resulted from being a prisoner to Superman. Most people stayed away from her after getting a glimpse of them.

The apartment where she and her father lived was upscale and in a moderately sized building. The doorman offered her a smile and a polite nod as he held the door open for her. He never once forced her to make awkward conversation. Sometimes, Zatanna wondered if her father had interfered. Still she nodded back.

The elevator ride was short and devoid of other people. She left out a small sigh as it brought her several floors up. The doors opened in a fluid motion, and only a few steps later and she was in front of their apartment door. She muttered a spell and, after a moment, the lock made a loud clicking noise.

"Dad? I'm home!" she said as she entered.

"Zatanna!" The man, sitting on the couch with books scattered around him, smiled at her. "I'll have dinner ready in an hour."

"You didn't have to," she said, although she could not stop her own smile from appearing. His physical recovery did not take long, although Zatanna suspected that Dr. Fate had maintained his host's body rather well. It was the mental prison that left the most scars.

_(and we're never fully free)_

"What are you looking for?" she asked. The tomes were ancient, and some seemed to be written in a different language.

Zatara's smile dimmed. "I may have found how you're friend-"

"Dad, he's not my friend."

_(not anymore)_

Zatara stifled. "I'm sorry, dear. Well, I believe I may have found how he created the last storm. It looked familiar, so I started looking into some older texts."

The woman tried not to shudder. The artificially produced storm had killed hundreds. Most of the casualties were indirect; power outages and surges of tornado-like winds had gotten to the civilians before the League had. More importantly, however, was the fact that at the center of the storm the man known as Count Vertigo was struck by lightning over ten times.

It took longer for her to make the connection.

"No," she muttered. "He's… he's… He hated magic! He couldn't have gotten that power so fast! He…"

"There are some ways to obtain power at that speed," Zatara said. "I thought you should be the first to know."

Zatanna collapsed onto the couch. Overwhelmed with emotion, she screamed.

* * *

><p><strong>July 4, 1:27 AM<br>Remains of Gotham**

Nabu could feel a hand grasp the half of the Helm that he was contained in. He had not been hopeful that either halves should be retrieved, but with luck-

_(with fate I shall be revived)_

-both halves shall be placed back together. He had not exerted any power, so what he did have stored should be enough to reunite the two pieces.

But the hand brought the piece to the face of his savior. If he had to control the human to fix things, then so be it-

_("Hello Doctor Fate.")_

Nabu was slightly startled. He remembered the boy, now a man. He was a man of the realm of science, a natural speedster-

_("My name is Wally. I thought you would have remembered.")_

Fate bristled.

_("You have allowed the destruction by that-"_

"_Gotham is dead. She had herself killed.")_

Some unidentified feeling welled up in Fate. He had believed that the Lady who had once served as his teacher had no hope left within her; she had gone the route of Chaos and had shown no remorse. But this was proof that he was right. She must have realized and-

_("Can it. She allowed it because she was tired. Batman had it done because he didn't want more blood."_

"_We must return the world to Order, then. She has left much destruction in her wake. We must-"_

"We _are not going to do anything. You already caused a lot of damage yourself. I heard about Krypton.")_

The hand holding the half of the Helm twitched, and Fate could feel the human smiling.

_("I am a Lord of Order!"_

"_You are a monster. You used people as pawns and killed without thinking. Kent Nelson was stuck with you because he was scared of what you were going to do."_

"_I had to do what was right for this world."_

"_You still haven't learned, have you? Well, I never did hold out much hope.")_

The fingers started to grasp the Helm a little too hard. Nabu felt rage being directed at him. Wallace still did not understand what Onyx's crimes were. But he would teach the man. Science was not a hard thing to cast out, and it wouldn't be long before-

Then the Helm began to crack.

_("What are you doing?"_

"_I'm doing what we should have done a long time ago. I am done playing revenge plans. I'm going to prevent this from happening again.")_

Nabu reached out for what magic he did have in that part of the Helm. But nothing responded; it was as if there was nothing in there but his own spirit.

_("I'm not an idiot. I stole the rest of your magic while you were talking."_

"_How could you-"_

"_Easily. I looked, I learned, and now I'm conquering and stealing. Sucks, doesn't it?")_

The fingers came together, crushing the remains of the Helm. And with it, Nabu was no more.

* * *

><p><strong>July 4, 3:15 PM<br>Central City**

Barry opened his eyes slowly. Everything about him felt sluggish, as if the world had fallen around him and he was just waking up for the aftermath. He wasn't in pain but there was a stiffness in his joints. He flexed his fingers a few times.

"Good, you are awake." He turned his head and saw Cassandra Cain standing by his bed. There were dark circles under her eyes, but otherwise she looked as he had remembered her.

Memories slammed back into place. "What- what-"

"Shh." She poured a glass of water, pressed a button to tilt his bed up, and brought it to his lips. He accepted it greedily. "You've been… asleep. Asleep for a long time."

"A…" It took Barry a second to understand what she was trying to imply. "A coma? Was I in a coma?" His voice was incredibly weak, and for a second he was fearful that none of his words were properly formed.

But Cassandra seemed to have understood. "Yes. You had to recover."

"Recover from what?"

"From Martian Manhunter. He was… leaking illusions. Showing you lies."

"What? I- I don't-"

_(but I'm responsible I helped hurt them)_

Cassandra gave him a patient smile. "I should show you something." She placed the glass of water down, and turned on the television. A DVD began to play. "I will get the doctor."

It was three hours before he saw her again. The DVD was a documentary that played for only half of that time. It went into detail of the supposed mental degrading of the Justice League. How scientists weren't sure of what had captured some of the most important members and twisted their thoughts. How they had all believed that something was happening. How Superman had killed Batman early on in the process before the infection took hold of the others. How two cities were completely destroyed because of it.

There was a doctor that came, although he did not disturb Barry as he watched. Barry was grateful and at the same time mortified that they would allow such a shock to come to him after just waking up.

When Cassandra returned, she was carrying a tray with food.

"This… This can't be true!" he protested as she put the tray down. "It can't!"

Cassandra nodded. "But if it wasn't true, then they would… lock you up. Take you away like the others."

Barry shook his head. "This… This can't be right. I _saw _them. I watched them kill so many people-"

"Did you?" The young woman cocked her head.

"I… Didn't I?"

"They were careful." She began to set out the food on the swinging table of his bed. A sandwich. An apple. A cup of pudding. A carton of chocolate milk. "This was their final revenge."

"They… This was all for revenge? They killed- And the others! They-"

Cassandra shushed him. "We can't reverse it. But something has happened."

"Did they come back? Did they-"

She shook her head. From her back pocket, she pulled out a few pieces of folded paper. "I need to tell you this."

"What is it?"

"Instructions from… from Batman. Wally… has become too dangerous. He has killed many people."

_(what?)_

His heart began to beat faster. After she read the letter for him, the heart monitor mistook his rushing heartbeat as a flat line.

* * *

><p><strong>1 year 3 months later<br>October 31, 6:16 PM  
>Remains of Gotham<strong>

Wally had cleaned the gun carefully. It was the same one that Pyroead had given him years ago. The speedster made sure that it was kept in perfect working condition and only used it for special kills. He wasn't ready to lose it yet. Not after everyone was tricked into believing that there was no such thing as Pyroead and Sylph.

_(that we just lied and lied and lied and)_

He sighed. He had trouble sometimes keeping those thoughts quiet.

Wally turned back to the clone on the ground. Red Arrow was pinned down by his own arrows, the same ones that Wally had stolen from him years before. He was covered in his own blood, although he continued to glare at the speedster.

It had been pathetically easy to take all of the League members out of their prison cells and bring them to Gotham. Wally had been careful when building the prisons out of the ruins. He didn't want to give them the change to escape after all of those years. It took time for him to weave the magic-

_(Fate's powers so limitless)_

-but he had to make sure that they were perfect.

Wally pointed the gun at the clone. "I was thinking of letting you bleed out with the arrows. But then I realized that, unless I take the arrows out, it would take a really really long time. So I thought I would speed it up just a little."

He pulled the trigger. Whatever remained of Red Arrow's mind gave way to a primal scream.

"There. Now it won't take nearly so long. But should be long enough for you to consider what you've done." Wally turned to see his other prisoners. "I really don't care who's next. I just had to make him shut up. Have you ever heard someone just go on and on about how you're the villain? I mean, surely you must have at this point!"

Oliver growled at him. The rest remained silent.

"You can all talk, you know. It's not like I stole your voices or anything." He lifted up his free hand, and a disc of energy appeared above it. "I was really stupid to think that magic wasn't a thing. Because, really, it's a great manipulation of energy. People need their rituals in order to control it better. Fate used it to kill people.

"You know what I've been using it for? I've been cleaning the earth. Everywhere there are people who are about to sacrifice their friends. Kill the innocent. All because they think they know what justice is. But this magic stuff really has a way with fixing it all. Someone should have thought of this sooner."

A crash came from the entrance to the cave the speedster made to hide in the ruins. Wally had been careful to conceal the doorway with rubble, although he knew that it wouldn't be enough.

_(I should have expected them sooner)_

"Looks like we don't have the time to enjoy your death, Red Arrow." The energy disc dissolved into the air. Wally pointed at the clone and raised his hand up. The clone was enveloped in a golden glow, and his body floated up like a rag doll. "Enjoy hell."

With a flick of his wrist, Wally tossed the body up one more time before clenching his hand into a fist. Red Arrow was tossed and then crushed. The sounds of his bones snapping and organs squishing filled the cave.

"Now should I kill the rest of you, or use you as hostages?" He pointed his gun at each of former heroes in turn. "Maybe a Kryptonite bullet for-"

"Wally!"

_(no)_

Wally turned and looked at the duo that was entering the cave. Cassandra and Barry looked unharmed from any of his traps.

The redhead's shoulders slumped. "Figures, Cass. First time we've met in years, and it's you trying to stop me."

She nodded. "You've killed a lot of people."

"I _had_ to. I wasn't going to let history repeat itself." The magic in him was reacting to his emotions; the walls around them were trembling. "You should understand."

"You have become… bloodthirsty." She frowned at him. "We were supposed to meet for dinner."

"We were, weren't we? Sorry about that." He looked over his shoulder and watched as the emotions swirled on his hostages' faces. "It's been ten years since they let Fate do the curse."

"Wally…" Barry stepped closer.

"Stop it, Uncle Barry." He aimed the gun at Superman. He was sure that the two understood that he was using Kryptonite bullets. "You've been trying to stop me for at least a year. Don't you know that I always escape?"

"You can't kill them, Wally."

"And why not? They killed Batman and his family. _You_ helped." He shook his head. The walls were shaking again. "Really, you would think that someone would have learned."

"Wally-"

"I may as well finish this now." He took careful aim-

"_I'm afraid for Wally."_

He turned back. When he wasn't looking, Cassandra had managed to take out a bunch of worn papers from a hidden pocket.

"_Wally has to be stopped if he goes down this path. I'm trusting you to stop him, Cassandra,"_ she read. "Bruce wrote me this letter. He was… worried."

"It's nice that Bruce cared. But really. He should understand what is going on." He gave her a half shrug. "Aren't I continuing his work? Making sure that families don't get torn apart because of other people's agendas?"

"You are tearing apart your own. How about… how about Lian?"

_(remember her?)_

His shoulder went slack, and he had to force himself to remain steady. "I… I've seen her."

"You just killed her father."

"He- he doesn't deserve-"

"But she deserves her own answers."

"She's- she's better off-"

"Is she?" Cassandra handed the letter to Barry, who cradled the paper as if it were sacred. "And who are you to decide this?"

_(who is anyone to decide this?)_

He dropped the gun. He should have known better than to talk to Cassandra. "It still hurts. I can hear the lullaby when I sleep."

"I know." She walked towards him. "I can hear it too."

"When? How? You're- you're-"

_(empty of hate)_

Cassandra picked up the gun. "Gotham gave me a piece too."

He took the gun from her. The metal felt heavy for the first time in years. "I was celebrating the anniversary."

"I know."

Barry looked on in horror. "Cassandra, what-"

But it was too late; the two were leaning into each other, their heads meeting together at their right temples. The barrel of the gun was aimed at the speedster's left temple. He forced his magic to remain calm.

_(death quiet finally)_

Wally hugged her-

_(I just want it to end)_

-and pulled the trigger.

* * *

><p><strong>10 Years ago<br>October 30, 9:59 PM  
>Watchtower<strong>

"_There has to be another way!" Barry argued._

_Fate shook his head. The magician was floating at the center of the table arrangement. His hands, bathed in a golden light, had been held up since he had started the spell. "I can guarantee you that there is no other way of stopping this corruption."_

"_There has to be!"_

"_Are you sure that this is the only way?" Orin asked. He was leaning back into his chair with his arms crossed. "I have studied the general effects of magic. Very few works cannot be reversed."_

"_This has gone unattended for too long. If we allow it to continue, your world shall end," Fate said. "It is already too late to reverse the sacrifices."_

"_You didn't mention anyone being sacrificed," Oliver growled. "You only mentioned your spell and that you had to 'cleanse Gotham.'"_

"_I did not want to burden you with the emotional choice. You do not fully understand the cost of what would happen without intervention."_

_Clark frowned. He had been sitting at the head of the table, listening to the argument since it began._

(since Barbara called)

"_If you had told us-"_

"_The emotional damage upon yourselves would be too high," Fate said calmly. "I have already seen a world destroyed by Chaos. I will not allow for another to fall."_

_Clark tried not to show any other emotion._

(fear hatred annoyance sorrow)

"_There was no other way?" he finally asked._

"_No."_

"_And you can't reverse the spell?"_

"_No."_

_Clark wanted to hate himself. But he knew that this was the best that they could do._

(Bruce would understand why wouldn't he?)

_The Krpytonian turned to J'onn. "Shut down the communication lines to Gotham."_

_The faces around the table collectively dropped. Barry seemed the most furious of them all. "How could you do that-"_

"_It's for the greater good. If the world really is on the edge of collapsing with no other way of combatting it…" Clark said, trying to keep his voice from failing him. "Bruce would understand."_

"_Well let's go ask him-"_

"_No. Fate is right. This is the better way." Clark turned to J'onn again. The Martian frowned and projected some of his sorrow. Still, he pulled up the required programs on the hologram before him._

"_We'll stay here until the spell is finished," Clark said, looking at each of the members in turn. "We have to guard Fate."_

"_But-"_

"_It's for the greater good," he said, his resolve setting in._

(sorry Bruce)

* * *

><p><strong>Wow. Four years.<strong>

**First off, I would like to thank you for reading this story! It's gone through a lot, especially as I changed and improved my writing style (so I like to think). I've learned a lot with this story and hoped you all enjoyed the ride!**

**Second, I am going to admit that this was not the original ending I was going towards when I first started this story. Instead, Batman and the family were going to be reborn in new lives, where they would go and torment the Justice League by being there but no one else can see them as Bruce, Paula, etc. (Think like how all the other illusions have worked in the story.) I do believe this ending fits better.**

**Wally especially was hard to get an ending for. He was different from the others because he never died. Nothing fit until I thought about him being a villain after everything he went through. He really didn't have another choice.**

**Finally, I do have another project that I am working on. It will be much more lighthearted. So hope to see you then!**

**And once again, thank you everyone!**


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